New Tomorrow
by Duchaska
Summary: Continuing the arc of the Gears universe, this story takes place immediately following the conclusion of the third game. It follows the lives of the gears as they begin to rebuild Sera, and deal with old enemies. Rated M for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: all the rights to the characters/universe belong to Epic, of course.  
**

**CHAPTER 1**

_She was gasping for breath. Running full speed. Her legs burned, but she didn't dare slow down or look back. She could hear the gunfire behind her, and almost feel the bullets whizzing past her head. She knew she was out of ammo, so she tossed her lancer to the ground and dove into cover. Across from the concrete slab she had scrambled behind, she could see the rest of the squad, or rather, what was left of them. There was so much blood. She could hear someone gurgling and shuddering. Wiping the blood from her face, she squinted into the dust that had been kicked up to see Dom crawling towards her, blood trickling from his mouth. She tried to call out for him, to beg him to stay still, but it was too late. A locust was above him, and pressed a shotgun barrel to his back. The crack was deafening, and she couldn't hold in her screams. The locust whipped its head towards her and growled, setting her in the gun's sight. She reached frantically for her sidearm, and drew it, aiming straight for the grub's head. _

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam found herself staring at Damon Baird. She was in her own bed, home on Azura.

"Do you mind?" He said, trying to keep his voice even.

She glanced down to her hand, which apparently had a mind of its own. In her half-sleep state, she had managed to pull her pistol from under her pillow and had it pressed firmly into his gut. Her hand was shaking, and she could feel hot tears running down her cheeks. Holding the gun in place, she glared at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, blondie?"

He snorted. "I guess I have a death wish. I thought I heard..." he hesitated, seeming to choose his words carefully. "...someone talking. Came to check it out. Can you move your gun, please?" He had slowly moved his hand to the barrel, gently pressing it away from him.

She replaced the pistol under her pillow and propped herself up on her elbow, trying her best to wipe her face without making it painfully obvious why. "Do you see anyone in here talking? I think you were just trying to catch a glimpse of my ass."

He chuckled softly before stepping back and sitting in the chair near her bed rolling his neck to crack it. "You wish."

Sam narrowed her eyes at him, and nodded her head towards the door. "I don't remember asking you to sit down and join me. I'm sure there's some bloody machine that needs fixing, or a bolt that needs to be tightened."

"Look, just because I made the mistake of coming in here doesn't mean you have to be a bitch. I'm not the one who was screaming like a little girl-"

"Excuse me? Now you look." She sat up and pulled her blanket tightly around herself.

"Whoa, Sam...Come on. I wasn't trying to...I mean, I just wanted to make sure..."

"Make sure of what? That I wasn't being murdered? It'd just make your life easier." She watched as Baird went quiet and stared hard at her, clenching his jaw. "Just because you've never given a shit about anyone, or anything that wasn't made of metal doesn't give you any damn excuse to come in here acting like a bloody hero because I had a fucking nightmare." She could feel herself trembling, reliving part of her dream in the back of her mind as she kept her eyes trained on his. He swallowed hard and looked down at the floor.

"I miss him too, Sam." came the subdued response. Shocked by his admission, and the surprising intuitiveness, her eyes widened and she felt her jaw hanging slightly open. The silence hung heavily in the air for a few minutes as they deliberately avoided eye contact. Sam finally looked over at Baird, his head hanging down with one hand rubbing the back of his neck, and found herself wondering just what his motives were for coming in to check on her.

"How long could you hear...I mean, was I really..." her voice trailed off, lost in her embarrassment and sorrow. She felt guilty for snapping at him, and ashamed of her emotional outburst. It wasn't like her to let one dream affect her. Had she woken the whole floor? He kept his head down, and spoke softly.

"It wasn't that bad, really. I was on my way to my room and I thought you were crying. I was going to just wake you up," he chuckled softly and looked up at her "but then you tried to shoot me." She smiled, despite herself, and shook her head slowly.

"You're just lucky I woke up before I pulled the trigger."

"I'm surprised that you decided not to." He said, as he stood and started for the door. Before she realized just what she was doing, she reached out and caught his hand. He stopped dead and slowly looked down at her hand, grasping his firmly.

"Would you...I mean, I know it's late, but I don't exactly plan on sleeping anytime soon. Do you want to stay for a while?"

He turned slowly to face her, his face entirely unreadable. For a brief moment she felt she had made a terrible mistake. This was Damon Baird; Callous, uncaring smart ass who took any sign of weakness as an invitation for endless torment and teasing. What was she thinking? She let go of his hand, only to find it stayed in place. His fingers were lightly wrapped around hers as he visibly struggled for words.

"Sam, I don't know...I don't, I meant I can't, er...I'm not...I'm not good at this." He shook his head and averted his eyes, hesitant to admit the possibility of being less than an expert at something. She tugged his hand lightly and patted the empty space on the bed by her legs.

"No one can be good at everything, Baird."

He sat, stiffly, finding his eyes once again on his hand wrapped around hers. She seemed so delicate and fragile, a far cry from what he was used to seeing on the battlefield. But the war was over, and no one would ever be the same. Gears were real people, with real fears and real feelings. He took for granted the sound sleep that always found its way to him, and tried to understand what it must be like to fear one of the most basic human needs; sleep. He suddenly found himself wishing he knew the right words to say, or thing to do to allow the small, tan woman before him the comfort of peaceful sleep. He felt foolish even thinking this way. It wasn't like him. Somewhere Cole would be proud.

"At least I'm good at sleeping." He said, unable to avoid the sarcasm that always filled his mind, and acted as a barrier between him and the rest of the world. Sam smiled slightly, and patted his leg with her free hand.

"Maybe that's one thing you can finally say you do better than me."

* * *

"Shit."

Anya rolled over and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, habitually patting the space next to her, feebly hoping that Marcus was still there. The past two weeks he had barely slept, and it seemed every time she woke up, he was off sitting by himself on the balcony, or just on the edge of the bed. Baird had joked before that if they ever made a statue of Marcus Fenix, he would have a finger pressed to his ear and a frown on his face. Now, they would have to model it after his new fixed position; sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

Tonight was no different. Searching the dimly moonlit room for the source of the noise that woke her, Anya found Marcus, as usual, sitting with his legs over the side of the bed, head in his hands. Sliding across the bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulder and rested her head against his.

"Bad dream?"

"Hmm." came the grumbled reply.

Anya sighed heavily. She knew expecting any real words from him was foolish, but there was a part of her that vainly hoped that one day he would surprise her.

In the days since the war ended, she could count the amount of times Marcus spoke, unprompted, on one hand. He would respond to questions with as few words as possible, and she couldn't remember the last time he actually held up his end of a conversation. It seemed as though some part of him decided that there was no need in going through the motions anymore. When he wasn't helping rebuild the hotel, he sat in their room, usually alone. She made a point to bring him food, and check in on him, but she knew only time would help. There was certainly no forcing him into talking. If she had learned nothing else about him, that was it.

Marcus rubbed his hands over his face before returning his gaze to the glass doors leading to the balcony. He had never been one for expense or fancy furnishings, but considering this hotel was built for the wealthiest, most intelligent people on Sera, there was certainly no expense spared. When Anya had showed him this room, he would have flat out refused to sleep here if she had given him the choice. Not that he had been sleeping much, anyhow. Most nights he spent out on the balcony, staring out into the ocean. When he did sleep, it was restless and hardly worth the effort. He moved to take one of Anya's small hands into his own, and shook his head slowly. "They should have been here to see this, Anya."

Squeezing his hand, Anya moved to his side, wrapping her free arm around his lower back. She knew not to press him, no matter how much she thought it would help. She simply said "I know." before letting them shift into the comfort of silence that typically hung over the room.

Minutes passed before she could feel the need for sleep overwhelming her again. Though her mind had gotten used to functioning on little to no sleep, the old habit died hard when she found herself in a real bed with no threat of locust looming over her. For over seventeen years she learned to forsake sleep in favor of manning a radio for over eighteen hours at a time. Now that the war had ended, and it seemed the world was at peace, everyone was allowing themselves the luxury of regular sleep. Sure, most of the Gears had nightmares, but after what they had witnessed, who wouldn't? One night she went on a midnight run for coffee and was not at all surprised by the amount of noise she could hear coming from the rooms. Although not all of it was the product of nightmares - there were certainly other ways Gears fresh out of war were choosing to spend their nights.

At any rate, she knew her body was aching for the bed she had come to almost love since they began sleeping here just a few days ago. Azura had been the safest, most logical place to stay, at least until they figured out a solution to the fuel problem. They could certainly be much worse off than a posh hotel built on a tropical island. As she pulled her hand from his grip, she inched her way back to her side of the bed. Tugging his shoulder gently, she coaxed him into returning to his space next to her. She pressed herself against him, resting a hand on his chest. She knew he wouldn't sleep easily, but she hoped that the tiny bit of comfort she could offer would be enough to at least help him rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2: Azura, 1 week after Locust/Lambent destruction**

As the sun rose the next morning, Anya found herself alone again. Hauling herself to her feet she made her way to the balcony, expecting to find Marcus sitting outside. The door was open, and he was standing with his arms crossed resting on the balustrade, staring out into the ocean as usual. She purposefully dragged her feet, knowing better than to sneak up on a seasoned Gear, and she came up next to him to mirror his stance. "I'm meeting Sam in a bit. We're going to start sorting through some of the rooms, checking for supplies. What are you guys working on today?"

"Still in the rooms that got messed up. Most of the walls are patched, just a lot of shit to clean out. Ripping out chinks of the dead stalks. See what we can use that didn't get too busted up." He never moved his eyes from the sea, and she was starting to feel like he was waiting for a boat to show.

The lifeboats from Sovereign had all washed up near Hanover. Most of the citizens had wanted to set up camp there, seeking out the other settlements along the coast. The lambent problem on the mainland didn't make that the safest choice, though. Not to mention an unknown, seemingly endless, number of Stranded who wouldn't look too kindly on the COG taking any of their land-space or possible resources. It was tense enough with the existing settlements. New inhabitants, let alone a large group, would have raised very unwelcome attention, and spread already thin resources even thinner. When Cole and Baird had found the Gorasni fleet, they managed to pick up much of the Sovereign refugees before meeting with the rest of Delta. A few groups of citizens had decided to live a more nomadic life, and though they found a few stragglers on their way to Azura, there was still endless wondering if they would ever see them again.

"Marcus...I know I've said this before, but, if you ever want to talk..."

"I know." He met her eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to the horizon. That was Marcus-speak for 'I don't'. She nodded and stood, turning back to their room. Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she spoke just loud enough for him to hear.

"I know you know this as well as I do, if not better, but the pain isn't going to just go away, Marcus. You miss them. Both of them. All of them. Maybe you don't need to talk about it, but maybe one day you'll want to. Maybe I want to. If we don't talk about the people we lose, we take a chance of people forgetting just how important they were." She went into the room without looking back. She had made it this long without losing her composure around him, and she didn't want to now. He had enough trouble of his own, and she wasn't about to burden him with her need for comfort. Eventually, she hoped, he would return to whatever semblance of normalcy he had before this. He'd never be like he was before prison, but maybe he could return to what he was before they sunk Jacinto. Before Vectes, and the Lambent. Before they lost Dom, and his father. Until then, she just had to stay by his side; being the one unchanging, constant point in his life. Even war, all he had ever known, was gone. Now all that remained to remind him that there was a life before the immense tragedy was Anya, and she felt bound but not only her love, but what felt like a duty, to be there for him, no matter what.

He rubbed his empty hand over his face and over his head, adjusting his bandana. He leaned over the balcony, scanning the horizon. It seemed eerie, the calm. The sun shined brightly, reflecting off of the ocean. Holding tightly to the only reminder he had of his father, he felt the heavy dread and remorse creeping into his mind once more. He found himself wondering briefly if there was any chance of recovering Dom's tags, but the thought of returning to Mercy just filled him with more guilt. Balling his hand into a fist, he slammed it down on the railing and groaned quietly, screwing his eyes shut. The absence of his brother made life seem as though it was permanently missing something. While he knew this should be a time for celebration, it seemed almost narcissistic to allow himself to be happy. The terrible irony was that his grief was compounded by the fact that he couldn't talk to Dom about it. He suddenly found himself thinking of Cole and the letters he wrote to his mother. Maybe he was on to something.

Looking down into his hands, he sighed heavily. Opening his fist, he stared at his father's cog tags before squeezing his eyes shut. "I won't let anyone forget."

* * *

The sunlight woke her. She blinked slowly and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. It was only then that Sam realized her left hand was intertwined with another. Arms were wrapped around her, one under her neck and one resting over her waist. Sitting up quickly, she heard the sleepy grumbles from her bedmate.

"Fuck...Baird, get up!" yanking her hand free, she pushed his shoulder hard. His eyes shot open and he sat up, quickly looking around the room. Instinctively, he put himself slightly in front of her.

"What? What is it?" He seemed to be searching the room for anything that had even a slight glow, or for his lancer.

"This! Oh, this is just fan-bloody-tastic! You better move your ass, blondie, before someone sees you leaving and thinks we spent the night together."

He stared at her for a moment, mind still foggy with sleep, before his trademark smirk crossed his lips. "Hate to tell you this, but we sorta did."

"Ugh! Come on, Baird! Don't do this to me. I don't want people thinking that we were in here fucking all night."

"Because that would be the worst thing in the world, right?" He would have looked hurt if he didn't look so damned amused. She considered reaching for her pistol again before she just fell back on the bed, defeated.

"Fine, go ahead. Wait a bit. Maybe then you can catch everyone in the mess and make an announcement."

"You think I want people knowing I was in here all night with you?"

She sat back up and put her face right up to his. "And just what the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?"

"I don't want everyone thinking I've gone soft." Hearing her try to suppress a giggle, he rolled his eyes. "Alright, bad choice of words. What I mean is, if people find out I came in here to keep you company, it will ruin all my hard work. I've got an image to maintain, you know."

Her eyes softened a bit. "Well you haven't been all that careful about it. Or, at least you weren't last night." He stared down at the bed, and for a brief moment, she regretted saying anything. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to regret last night. I really did appreciate it, Baird."

His eyes met hers, and his expression was surprisingly warm. "I don't, Sam. Don't worry, I'll sneak out and let you keep up your wholesome image." He smirked and strode off to the bathroom and shut the door.

A light knock on the suite door nearly startled Sam out of her skin. She launched herself across the room to the door, trying to catch it before Baird poked his head out to see who it was. Anya was standing in front of her with two cups of coffee in her hands.

"Hey, Sam. Brought you a drink. Ready to go?" She raised her eyebrows, noticing her disheveled hair.

"Oh, fuck. I completely forgot." Reaching out to take her coffee, Sam glanced fretfully back to the bathroom before looking up and down the hallway. "Can I meet you in the lobby?"

"Hey, Sam? Do you have any towels out there? I was washing my face-" Baird had poked his head out and came to a sudden stop when he saw the lieutenant in the doorway, wide eyed and with her jaw hanging open. "Hey...Anya. I just came by to-"

"Oh, don't mind me." Anya tried to suppress a huge smile, but it still tugged the corners of her lips up. "Sam, I'll just see you downstairs. Take your time."

"Anya, I...Oh bloody hell. Fine." Sam pushed the door shut, but not without hearing quiet, school girl-like giggles from the woman walking down the hall. She set her coffee on the end table by the sofa and whipped her heard around, staring daggers at the man standing in the bathroom doorway. "Didn't you hear me talking out here?"

"Sorry. Wasn't really listening."

"Well you were bloody well listening last night!"

Baird put his arms up in mock surrender "Hey, hey hey...It's just Anya. And you're going to talk to her anyway, right? You can set her straight." He had that almost hurt look again, and Sam couldn't figure out why it was softening her so much today. Maybe the sleep deprivation was finally taking its toll.

Sighing heavily, Sam reached into the closet by the door and removed a hand towel. Tossing it to Baird before plopping down on the sofa, she spoke softly. "I'm sorry. You're right. I haven't been getting much sleep, and I'm a little...new at this. You know, the kindness and gratitude thing." She glanced up at him, feeling terribly ashamed of the way she had treated him after his small, though hugely meaningful, gesture of staying the night.

Drying his face, he walked over and sat on the opposite end of the couch. "So, what are you girls up to today? Manicures? Gossip? Pillow fight?"

"No, corporal asshole. I told her I'd help her sort through some of the rooms that are still empty. We're trying to get a better idea of supplies. If we can organize some of the toiletries and personal items, we'll have a better idea of what we need. Plus we can distribute the clothes better so some of the gears can finally get some shit without bullet holes in it."

Baird stared at her for a moment, trying to hold back a smile, but failing miserably. When he saw the annoyance crossing her face, he burst into laughter.

"What the fuck is so funny now?"

Catching his breath, he shook his head and looked down. "Oh, nothing. Just the fact that the war is FINALLY over, and you girls are celebrating by going shopping for clothes!"

Sam couldn't help but smile, but she punched him in the leg anyway. "Yeah, blondie. That's my main goal in this. I'm hoping to find myself some proper ladylike attire."

"Good plan." he said, meeting her eyes finally. "I mean, some guys dig the warrior woman style, but if you want to get a good man, maybe you shouldn't look like you want to rip everyone's balls off all the time."

Sam stood up and chuckled. "Maybe. But that's the last thing on my mind."

"Ripping everyone's balls off?"

"No, finding myself a good man."

Baird tilted his head quizzically. She just shook her head and walked to the closet where she kept her armor.

"It's a new world now. Repopulating and all that. I'm not exactly at the top of the list, you know? Thanks to the Fortification Act, no child-bearing women could enlist, so they had us all tested when we joined up. Only test the COG gave me that I scored 'below average' on" Tossing her armor plates on the bed, she grabbed her clean shirt and pants, and headed to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked slightly. Raising her voice a little, she continued. "Besides, I've got shit to do. Organizing and all that, right? No time to be worrying about seducing someone."

He heard her laugh ruefully as he walked over to the door. Leaning against the frame, he mulled over his words for a moment before finally speaking just barely loud enough for her to hear. "I didn't know that...But, you know, not everyone cares about that shit. Besides, anybody who just wants to get you knocked up isn't really worth your time."

Coming out of the bathroom quickly, she gasped as she ran right into him. Looking up into his eyes, their faces were inches apart. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she struggled to find her voice. "I, um...I better go." She had to pull herself away and force her legs to move, walking towards the bed to strap herself, yet again, into her armor. "Anya's waiting, and I'm late enough."

"Here." The voice came from behind her. Baird lifted her armor up and put it over her, and as he clasped the top together, she could feel his breath on her neck. Shivering, she turned to face him, again surprised to see just how close he was.

"Thanks, Baird...for everything." She planted a light kiss on his cheek and headed for the door before he could make a smart ass remark. By the time she pulled her door shut, he was standing exactly where she left him with his eyes wide, staring after her.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**Anvil Gate; 1 week after the deployment of Adam Fenix's weapon.**

"Colonel Hoffman?"

Lewis Gavriel had knocked lightly on the door frame. Hoffman never bothered to close the door. He spent far too many years behind a closed door in an office. Something about the near destruction of the planet made him feel obligated to remain available. Raising his head from the papers covering his small desk, he waved him in.  
"Any news on the locust?"  
Taking a seat in the chair facing the front of the desk, Gavriel took a deep breath.  
"No, sir. Nothing. We haven't spotted a single locust or any lambent creatures since they did…whatever it was they did." He tried hard not to sound overly hopeful, but the immense relief he felt was nearly radiating from his body. "Salton called in this morning. He hasn't seen anything either. He says he'll give it a few more days before coming back in, but he sounded optimistic."

Hoffman smiled, a more usual sight since returning to Anvil Gate, and leaned back in his chair. "Glad to hear it. Any word from the others yet?"  
Gavriel frowned. "No, sir. We've had someone checking the radio a few times a day, but we haven't heard anything from anyone other than the Stranded in a few weeks, maybe longer."

Sighing heavily, Hoffman stood and walked to the window, staring down into the street below. The citizens of Pelruan had settled in nicely. After the last battle with the lambent they had managed to fully recover. The Pesangas had moved in as well, and things seemed almost normal again. The street below was buzzing with life, filling him with nostalgia. Since they returned, he could swear he saw Samuel Byrne in the crowd a few times. The first time had caught him entirely off guard, and for a brief moment he feared the stress had finally driven him insane. But sure enough, it was just another gear. He often found himself wondering just how long ghosts would follow him. As old as he was, it was no surprise that most of the gears he started out with were gone. He felt like the last of his generation, and that fact alone was enough to make anyone feel their age more than they typically did. Combine that with the realization that he wouldn't live to see Sera return to its former glory, and he realized just how limited his time was.

But he was a tough old bastard, and he'd die a Gear. He wasn't going to be put out like a lame horse, so until his men didn't need him anymore, he'd hold his position. There may not be much of a COG left, but he'd damn well defend his people until the day he couldn't anymore. And when that day came, he wasn't really sure what he would do.

"Speaking of the Stranded…there was another incident today."

Hearing Gavriel speak broke him from his thoughts. Anger quickly replaced all the other feelings he was wrestling with, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face. Turning to face the man behind him, he could hear Bernie in his head telling him to calm down. Gritting his teeth, he forced out a long breath before responding.

"Now what?"

Gavriel tried to sound dismissive, but his face betrayed him. "The fishing boats were out and another vessel came into radio range and, well, basically told them in no uncertain terms to return to shore."

Taking off his cap, Hoffman rubbed his hand over his head and face before slamming his fist onto the back of his chair.  
"You know, we've let this shit go on for too long. If it isn't one thing it's another. I will NOT let those sons of bitches run our boats back to shore every damn time we go out."  
"All due respect, sir, we can't risk losing anymore boats. The lambent took out a few, you remember? We're down to only 5 decent fishing crafts, and that's a stretch for as many people as we have to feed."  
Gripping the chair back, Hoffman felt his patience wearing thin.  
"And you don't think the bastards are gonna take out the rest of them if they get the chance? No. We're not tolerating this anymore. Next time anyone gets ANY radio contact from them, you tell them unless they want another war, they'll stay the hell away from our boats."

"Do you really think threatening them is a good idea, sir?"  
"You know what? I don't give a shit. If we let them get away with it, then any stranded bastard that comes by will think they can do whatever the hell they please, and that's not how this world is going to work, Lewis. We just got out from under one enemy, and I won't let another step into their place. From now on, no boats go out without armed Gears, period. If they want a fight, we'll be ready."

Gavriel nodded and turned to leave. He paused at the door. "Oh, and sir? Bernie was looking for you. She said something about a rabbit." Smiling and shaking his head, he continued out the door. "I'm sure it will be delicious!"

Returning to his place at the window, Hoffman looked back into the street. One of Bai Tak's daughters was walking towards what functioned as a food market, holding her young son in her arms. When she looked up and saw him, she smiled and waved. Waving back, he felt a smile cross his face as well. It felt so odd, after all these years, to find as much happiness as he had since his return to Anvil Gate. He missed more people than he cared to count, but in the thirty years since he last was stationed here, he had never felt like he belonged anywhere else.

* * *

As Hoffman made his way down to the pier, it became obvious the citizens were more than a little concerned about the Stranded. There was a group of about 20 fisherman gathered at the end of the dock, and they all shared the same expression of fear and concern. After spending his entire life surrounded by war, he knew the look better than he wanted to.

He spotted Bernie in the center, making agitated gestures. The last thing he needed was her trying to be the voice of reason when it came to the Stranded. If it were up to Bernie, they'd blow the shit out of all of them and move on with their lives. Against what he considered his better judgment, he was starting to agree.

Approaching the group, he raised his voice, effectively gathering everyone's attention.  
"So Gavriel tells me we've been having trouble with the Stranded?"

The chatter overlapped for a few moments before Bernie stepped into the front of the crowd.  
"Well, Vic, it seems the new neighbors aren't too thrilled about our settling here."  
A large fisherman behind her spoke up. "Yeah, they keep chasing us back to shore. We can't afford to lose the boats, Colonel. And we can't put up a fight without guns."  
Hoffman raised his hand to silence everyone before answering. "Lewis and I discussed it. From now on, no one goes out without gears on the boat. Period. We'll get the fit men trained up, and if you can shoot a gun, you'll have one. I'll be damned if I'll let those bastards try to cut off our food supply."  
Bernie smiled and nodded. "Yeah, if those tossers want a fight, we'll give them a bloody proper one."

A few scattered cheers and bits of applause came from the small crowd. Her enthusiasm for killing the locust had never wavered, and it seemed with nowhere to put that energy, she was more than happy to shift it towards the only remaining enemy. It just happened to be that she had just as much reason to hate them as the locust, and that certainly didn't help matters.

Hoffman tried to remain calm, despite his growing hatred for the Stranded as well. "Now, look, we're not gonna waste time going to look for them. Not unless they try something stupid. For now, we'll just be taking a solid stand. No more bullshit. If it comes to shoot on sight, then it does. But don't go provoking anything just yet." He realized he was staring mostly at Bernie, and returned his gaze to the crowd. "Just meet with Lewis tonight and we'll get the roster sorted out. Call it a day and pack it in. You can head back out tomorrow."

The crowd headed back towards the building they had deemed the town hall, and Bernie lingered behind. Resting her hand on his arm for a moment, she sighed.

"Oh, Vic, when did you become such an old softie?"  
He snorted and stared out into the water, scanning for boats. "Soft has nothing to do with it. It doesn't make any damn sense to be chasing off after every asshole who thinks he can give us a hard time. We just got out from under a war. Starting another is not my ultimate goal here."

"Yeah, you always see the sensible option." She nodded thoughtfully, and then tugged his arm gently. "Come on, I bagged us a rabbit earlier. We have chow waiting."

Heading back towards town, Bernie spoke quietly. "You know, I can't get my mind off of the rest of our troops. I wonder how they made out. Still no radio contact?"

Hoffman took a deep breath and looked down, shaking his head. "No, but if anyone can make it through this shit, it's Delta. I'm sure Baird's busy bitching about needing the perfect piece to get the damn thing fixed and Fenix is standing over him, glaring. They'll work it out."

Bernie laughed softly, knowing in her heart that he was right. He _had_ to be. She just couldn't shake the worry. It had been a while since they had spoken to the others, and the motherly feelings she had developed for them were nagging at her every day. Though he'd never admit it, she knew Hoffman was worried too. She'd give it another week before suggesting they find a way to travel to Azura and see if they were still there. Fuel problem or not, the not knowing was slowly killing her.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

"I don't know how much luck we'll have. These scientists probably weren't the same size as most of the Gears." Sam was following Anya to the first of the empty suites with a few empty boxes in hand. "But it will be damn nice to have a supply of proper toothpaste and shampoo."

"Yeah. I was worried about that myself. I can't imagine trying to find anything that would fit Marcus..." Anya's voice trailed off, but she smiled involuntarily like she did any time anyone mentioned Marcus.

"How is he, Anya? I mean...really."

"He's..." she sighed heavily as she entered the first room and flipped the light on. "He's Marcus. He won't talk, really. And I know he hasn't been sleeping, but by that it could mean nothing was wrong." She set her own boxes by the doorway and went to the closet, sliding the doors open to reveal a considerable wardrobe. The room was obviously meant for a couple, as there were dresses and men's clothing hanging inside. "Some nights I wake up and he's just sitting there, staring out the window. When he does sleep, he may as well be awake. It's restless, and he talks a lot."

"Bloody shame. Have you tried to talk to him?" Sam headed into the bathroom, pulling open the cabinets and separating the bottles into boxes.

"Yeah, that always goes well... 'Hey, if you want to talk, I'm here.' 'Mhmm.'" Anya laughed softly and shook her head. "One day, I'm going to create a Marcus to Tyran dictionary."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, you could use it as barter for the rest of us."

The hours passed, slowly. They made steady progress, and had made it through at least ten rooms. Sam had lost count. Most had been inhabited, but the Gears staying in them hadn't bothered going through most of the things left behind by the researchers that had lived there. They were too busy catching up on what they missed since E-day. Drinking, sleeping, and talking to their friends without having to keep their eyes on everything else.

"So, can I ask about that elephant that was in your room this morning?" Anya sat back on her heels, taking a break from the tedious sorting.

Sam dropped the bottle of perfume in her hand and it shattered on the tile floor of the bathroom. "Oh, fuck me..." grabbing a towel from the shelf she knelt down to wipe the spill, wrinkling her nose at the overpowering smell. "Whoever this belonged to must have really hated being around people. This shit is terrible."

"Is that a no?"

Sam dropped the towel on the floor and went out to join Anya. Sitting on the couch, she grabbed her, now 5th, cup of coffee and stared down into it thoughtfully. "It really wasn't what you're thinking. Hell, it wasn't even what I thought it would be."

"Sounds steamy." Anya came to join her on the couch, sipping her drink and trying to hold back her questions.

"No! It was nothing like that. I was having a dream and, well, apparently I was shouting or something, because he said he came in to check on me."

Raising an eyebrow, Anya set her cup on the end table and crossed her legs in front of her as she turned to face Sam full on. "Baird?"

"Yup."

"Damon Baird? Blonde? Kind of an asshole? Never misses a chance to piss someone off? That Baird?"

"That's the one." Sam looked over to Anya and shrugged. "Anyhow, I nearly blew his bloody brains out when he woke me. Old habits die hard, I guess. And we ended up talking for a while, and somehow managed to fall asleep...in my bed."

Anya's eyes went wide. This certainly didn't sound like the Baird she knew.

"And he stayed a few minutes after you left, too. I never thought I would say this, believe me, but...He was actually really sweet." Sam sounded as surprised as Anya looked.

"Wow..." nearly rendered speechless, Anya stood and returned to the box of clothes she had been filling. "Well, never thought I'd see the day. Are you going to...?" Leaving the question unfinished, Anya glanced over at Sam who was on her way back to the bathroom.

"Call him? Ask him to the dance?" Sam laughed. "I don't know. It's weird. He can be a wanker, but last night I saw a different Baird. I almost...I almost enjoyed being with him." Shaking her head, she emptied the last of the medicine cabinet into the box of toiletries and carried it over to the door. "Maybe I'll go bring him some flowers and chocolates."

Anya was sealing her last box as well. She stood and wiped her hands on her knees, smiling warmly at Sam. "That sounds like a good idea, but he'd probably like a bag of metal scraps and some wires more."

As they pulled the door shut and made their way down the hall, Anya put her arm around Sam's shoulders and laughed. "Hey, maybe if things go well we can find you a nice lacy nightie in one of these rooms and you can really make his day."

Sam shoved Anya and did her best to glare at her, but as much as she hated to admit it to herself, that idea didn't sound entirely terrible.

* * *

There was so much work to be done. It seemed like the Stalks had ripped through nearly a third of the hotel. Luckily there were enough rooms to accommodate the Gears, and Jacinto's remnant. The Gorasni mostly slept on-board their largest ship, despite the invitation to move onto the island. It seemed that instincts were just as hard for them to overcome as anyone else. There was always the lingering thought that you may have to pick up and move at any time, and it would be much easier to do that with everyone together. Sleeping separately certainly hadn't dampened the camaraderie, though. And the Gorasni men, refusing to be shown up, had insisted on helping rebuild Azura. After all, it seemed that Azura was the best place on Sera to settle right now. They had seen the mainland since leaving Vectes, and were no more interested in heading back just yet than the gears were. With the fuel shortage, the most logical choice was for everyone to stay put as much as possible. Sure, there would need to be recon missions, and scouting, but that could wait a while. After a lifetime of war, it seemed everyone had a moment to breathe, and they wanted to enjoy it as much as they could.

Like any other man who'd spent nearly their entire life fighting, it seemed impossible to just come to a halt. The war was over, and it seemed that, though they all had the chance to sit still, no one had the ability. Everyone was restless. Not the worried, stressful restlessness they'd become accustomed to, but a relieved, adrenaline fueled restlessness that demanded some sort of action, if for no other reason to satisfy the need to expel energy. So with no real break, the work began.

It had been tedious, at first. But the relaxation that came with actually being able to chat while working, and not being covered in blood and searching for possible snipers, all the while waiting to feel the ground start to tremble under you, was a welcome change. To most people, anyway.

Marcus Fenix had never been the chatty type. So when it came time to work, most of the other gears and the Gorasni men had learned to avoid him. By now, everyone had heard what happened to Dom, and to his father. They knew better than to bring it up and the forced small talk could only go so far. It seemed the only person willing to get near him was Cole. Cole had thrown himself into the work with enthusiasm, like every other thing he did. He would work, clearing the debris and repairing what they could during the day, and running thrashball games with the kids in the evening. The less down time, the better. He still wrote letters to his mother every night, and that was as close to down time as he wanted.

It wasn't until the end of the day that Cole finally approached Marcus. As he was ripping apart a broken table to use for scrap, Cole poked his head into the room.

"Hey man, it's quittin' time." Cole never failed to treat every situation as if it was perfectly normal. Here they were trying to slowly repair a world destroyed by war, and he treated it like any other job.

"Mhmm. Almost done." The last bit of the table gave way, leaving a solid flat piece of wood.

"When you're ready to knock off, a bunch of us are meeting down in the dining room. They've got a full stocked bar, baby! Well, full until tomorrow, I'm sure." His laugh boomed through the small room they were in, which must have been a storage area at some point.

"I'm not in a drinking mood."

"Oh, come on man. The guys are all asking about you. Besides, it'd be good for you. If you go much longer without spending time with other people, you're gonna start scaring folks. You're gonna be like that old guy who sits on his porch and yells at kids when they walk by. "

Marcus raised an eyebrow at him before turning to nail the board up over the gaping hole in the wall, presumably from a frag grenade.

"If I could, I'd make it an order. But seein' as I'm not in the position to do that, I guess all I can do is ask nicely."

"Alright, Gus. I'll stop by."

Cole smiled his beaming, contagious smile and nodded approvingly. "Alright, baby. I'll save you a drink."

* * *

"Sam! Sam, you'll never believe it!" Carmine nearly sprinted across the dining room when he saw her. Shoving a piece of food into her mouth, he held the other half in his hand, waving it in front of her face like a child with a new toy. "There's bacon. Fucking BACON. Real, delicious, from-a-pig, bacon!" And damned if he wasn't right.

"Well, I bet that made your day, Carmine." Sam said, patting him on the shoulder firmly. Finishing the piece he nearly force fed her, she walked with him back towards the kitchen. "Got anymore?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe how much shit they stock-piled here. It's like they started this place before E-day or something. I bet there's enough food to keep us fed for years. It looks like they had a small farm area, but the locust probably killed all the livestock. We found some corpses, but so far nothing left alive. But we've got dry rations and canned shit to last a while. Maybe we can finally figure out a way to get some fuel into the ravens and start scoping out the mainland again."

Carmine had been working in the kitchen a lot, it seemed. He probably just enjoyed being around food again, and not wondering if a grub was going to interrupt his dinner. It was fine with the gears, though, as he was a damn good cook. Even some of the less appealing menu items just seemed to taste better when someone actually took the time to prepare them.

Grabbing a plate, Sam started piecing together a meal. She snatched a few strips of bacon, a biscuit, and scooped some eggs out of the pan Carmine was using. They may have been powdered, but they smelled amazing. "Yeah, I think Baird has been working on some ideas. Plus, we've got the Gorasni boys hanging around. They're a little hesitant to use the rest of their fuel to head back just yet. I don't know if Trescu will admit it, but I think he missed us. Too bad Hoffman isn't here to see him..." Sam sighed sadly. Hoffman and Bernie were still at Anvil Gate, and there was no way of knowing if she'd ever get to see them again. With the fuel supply pretty much non-existent, getting a Raven to Anvegad wasn't going to happen, especially not for a social visit. Of course, she assumed Baird had been working on the radios, too. But he was only one man after all. "Thanks, Carmine. Hey, stash some of the extra away for me, ok?" she winked at him and carried her plate to the dining room.

The dining room was nothing like the mess hall back on Vectes. The mess hall was all military. It was dark, and grey. There was no warmth, like a home. Only the warmth of the bodies piled it. Sure, it was comfortable enough, but once you've spent years waging war against monsters, anything they can't get into is comfortable enough. But here on Azura, everything had been designed to please the rich and intelligent groups that were smuggled in over the years. There were chandeliers, and plush chairs. There was carpet, and even a fireplace. This was nothing like Vectes.

Sam made her way across the room searching for a seat, and her eyes fell upon Baird, sitting alone by the window with his table covered in papers and open books. He had half a biscuit in his mouth as he frantically scribbled something on a piece of paper. Any other day, she never would have even considered joining him, but today she found herself heading that way. Sitting across from him, she felt like a teenager, trying to get the attention of a boy.

"Still working on the fuel problem?"

Baird snorted, not even looking up. "Yeah. Can't do much without it." He mumbled through the biscuit.

She reached over and took the biscuit from him and dropped it onto her plate. "You're going to drive yourself crazier, you know. You'll fall asleep and see numbers and schematics running around in your room."

He glared at her for a moment before burying his face back in his books. "Well, no one else around here seems to be doing a damn thing about it, and I sure as shit won't live in a world where we can't even fuel a damn raven."

Sam chewed thoughtfully on her eggs before waving a piece of bacon in front of Baird's Nose. "Look what Carmine found. Bacon. Real bacon."

Baird sighed heavily and flipped a few pages before responding. "We would have had bacon if they had let me trade you to the Stranded for it. And then you wouldn't be here running your mouth while I'm trying to solve a real problem, not scavenging clothes from the closets of dead scientists."

Sam dropped the slice back on the plate and stared at him. Her rage was building slowly, and she could feel it taking her over. She stood and dumped her plate of food on the table and into his lap.

"There. Maybe now you can take your fucking work and choke on it!" She stormed off, leaving the gears in the dining room staring after her as Baird tried to clean the mess, cursing at her under his breath.

Making it back to her room, she slammed the door behind her. She peeled her armor off and tossed it onto the floor by the bed, still fuming. He was so infuriating. It was impossible to figure him out. She had just started to think that maybe he did deserve a chance. Maybe he did care. After all, he did seem concerned for her when he first landed on Azura with Cole, and since then he had been his normal, sarcastic self. But it was as if the one act of kindness had used up his supply for the rest of his life. Sam sat on the edge of the bed rubbing her temples, trying to figure out just what had her so angry. Baird had been an ass, but hadn't he always been? Was she actually developing feelings for him? That thought alone scared her more than any locust ever had. She certainly wasn't going to let anyone speak to her that way, especially someone who she thought cared about her. She suddenly envied Bernie for having the chance, and the foresight, to punch him square in the jaw. Wondering if it would still have as much of an impact, she started for the front door. Weighing the pros and cons of making a scene, she had all but convinced herself it was entirely worth it to return for another round with him when she heard a light knock on her door. Opening it, she saw Cole standing in front of her. She gasped slightly, caught off guard by not only who it was, but as always, the sheer size of him.

"Hey, Sam. Got a sec?"

She motioned for him to come in and closed the door behind him, noticing how he practically had to turn sideways to fit through the door. She hoped whatever room he had was big enough for him. He'd probably have to put two beds together just to be able to stretch out. "Yeah, Cole. What's up?"

He sat down on the couch, taking up nearly half as he stretched his arms out along the back and arm. "It's about Baird."

Sam narrowed her eyes at him, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. "Whatever he sent you up to tell me-"

"Whoa, come on. It's nothing like that. I just saw what happened and figured it'd be a good idea to make sure you weren't coming up here after your lancer." In typical Cole fashion, he managed to make her smile a little. No one could ever stay angry with Cole around.

"Maybe I bloody well should be."

"Sam, baby, I know Damon's a lot to take. BELIEVE that. But you know he's just being Damon."

"That's the problem, Cole." Sighing, exasperated, she figured there was no harm in telling Cole everything. She explained what had happened the night before, and how he spent the night with his arms around her. How kind he had been that morning before she left, not even putting on a show for Anya.

Cole listened intently, and when she finished the story with the conversation he had seen but not heard, he started nodding his head slowly. "So, basically, he did something nice, you gave him a nice friendly kiss, and then when you tried to be nice to him, when other people were watching, he was an asshole?"

"That about sums it up, I guess."

"I don't know what part of that you find surprising." He laughed a little and patted her on the leg. "Baby, you know Damon ain't gonna let anybody else see him being a nice guy."

"But if he really cared, then why would he be SUCH an asshole?"

"Do you ever hear him being all sweet and cuddly with me? And you can't tell me there ain't a little piece of a heart in there somewhere, Sam. It might be tiny, and cold, and struggling to keep beating, but it's there." Cole smiled warmly at her, trying so hard to comfort her.

"I guess you're right...But does he have to make it so bloody hard for people to care back?" Sam stared at Cole, hoping for some insight into how he managed to put up with Baird all these years.

"Well, if he made it easy, too many people would be fighting over him, since he's such a genius." Cole flashed his giant, goofy grin before continuing. "Besides, nearest I can figure he just thinks it's easier this way. If people hate him, they won't miss him, and he won't miss them. It's just about all he knows, all any of us know; people dying all around them. It's much harder on everyone when you care about those folks, instead of just getting pissed at them all the time. And you know, if it wasn't such a challenge to care about him, I don't think you'd even want to try."

Sam had always figured Baird was being an ass as a defense mechanism, but she truly sometimes forgot he even had the ability to care about a person. But, here was Cole, and there was no denying they were friends. Best friends, even. And you certainly can't have a best friend if you don't care about anyone. And she certainly did love a challenge. She chewed her lip thoughtfully before finally looking back at Cole.

"Never really looked at it that way, Cole. Thanks."

He stood up and headed for the door, laughing as he went. "No problem, baby. You know you can count on the Cole Train to play match maker for you lovebirds. Now I just gotta head down to the garage and pull Damon's head out of his ass."

"Maybe I'll go do that for you." she said, following him out into the hall and closing the door behind them.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**Anvil Gate: Two weeks after the Locust destruction**

"Vic, get up." Bernie was nudging his arm as she pulled on her boots and checked her lancer over.

"Gavriel's calling in. They've got a problem down at the docks."

Groaning, Hoffman rolled out of bed and pulled on his armor. Things never seemed to go well for long. Popping his earpiece into place, he switched it on. "Hoffman to Gavriel, what's going on?"

The radio crackled in his ear, and he could hear what sounded like arguing in the background. "Gavriel here, sir. It seems some stranded asshole was taking potshots at the trawler this morning. Blew a decent hole in it, but it's fixable. One of the fishermen caught a round, though."  
Hoffman growled as Bernie threw the door to their room open and stalked down the hallway. Following closely behind, reloading his own rifle, he simply responded "On my way."

"So, now do we go out looking, then? Or do we just wait for the bloody bastards to actually kill someone?"

Hoffman stopped and grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him. He could feel the blood in his face as he struggled not to yell. "Damnit, woman, I am doing to best I can here. I can't go sending men we can't spare to use ammo and fuel we don't have to chase those assholes around all day!" They stood in uncomfortable silence, glaring at each other for a moment before she sighed and nodded.  
"You're right, I'm sorry. I just can't shake it, I guess. I have plenty of reasons to want to slot the bastards anyhow, and this shit isn't helping."

Letting her arm go, they continued towards the docks. "I know, Bernie. And trust me, I feel the same way."

When they reached the pier, the trawler was already being patched, and a few Gears were carrying a man on a stretcher towards what had become the infirmary. Hoffman could see the bandages, already soaked through, wrapped around the man's left arm. He was bleeding pretty badly, but he'd survive. It somehow didn't make him feel any better.

"What the hell happened?" He wasn't really addressing anyone in particular, but a young Gear standing nearby spoke up.  
"They came over the radio and told us to leave, then started taking shots at us when we wouldn't go back in. We returned fire, and punched a few holes in their craft and took out two guys, but not before they did some damage to the boat, sir."  
Lewis jogged back up the pier, shaking his head and grumbling angrily. "Those sons of bitches nearly cost us a boat, Colonel. And they nearly cost someone their life! We've still got two vessels out there we're waiting for that we've called back in. Forget the people starving to death when we can't feed them, but now we're going to have to worry about getting shot at, too? We survived the locust and the lambent only to live in fear of other humans? When are we going to DO something about this?"

Everyone standing around the pier had fallen silent, and was staring expectantly at the Colonel. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Walking to the end of the pier, he spoke loudly into the radio, loud enough for everyone gathered around to hear.

"This is Colonel Victor Hoffman. I know you assholes can hear me, and I'm only going to say this once, so I hope you're listening closely. We will NOT tolerate your threats, and we will NOT be chased back inland by a bunch of thugs. As of right now, any one of my men that spots any of you is authorized to shoot on sight. Shoot first, no questions, you hear me? If another one of my boats comes back with so much as a _dent_in it, I will personally show up at your doorstep and pull the trigger myself. We are still the COG, and we won't be threatened by anyone who never had the decency to fight for their country. We never gave in to the locust, and I'll be damned if we'll give in to you. Consider this your only warning."

The silence hung heavily in the air. Hoffman was peering out into the ocean, but he could feel everyone staring behind him. A few people mumbled agreements before the receiver buzzed loudly.

"Colonel Hoffman? We hear you loud and clear. And just so we're on the same page, I've told my men the same thing. See you at sea, boys." Laughter broke out over the radio before it went dead again.

Bernie came up behind him and stared out into the ocean as well. They stood there for a few moments while the gears and civilians on the dock whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her nod slowly as an eerie smile crossed her lips. She looked to him briefly and spoke softly. "If it's a bloody war they want, then they picked the wrong blokes to start it with. We're old hands at war, Vic. We'll give 'em more of a fight than they ever knew they'd get."

Nodding back, he turned to face the crowd, which had now grown. Some of the Gears throughout town must have heard the radio, and the news of the wounded fisherman traveled fast in such a small community. It seemed as though half of the town was now looking at him, waiting for some confirmation of what they had heard. He briefly considered trying to soften the truth, but quickly realized it wasn't worth it. People deserved to know what was going on, and he refused to end up like Prescott; lying to the citizens under his watch because he thought he had the right.

"As many of you already know, we've been having problems with the local pirates. Well, as of right now, you all have my full permission, and encouragement, to shoot them on sight. The locust and lambent are gone, and we are not going to let these assholes step in and become our new problem. We'll double up on patrols, and send Gears out on every boat. No one goes anywhere unarmed and alone. You're either carrying a weapon, or going with someone who is. Period. If these bastards think they can push us around, then we'll just have to show them how wrong they are."

Applause rippled like a wave through the crowd as Hoffman started back towards his office. Passing Gavriel, he gestured for him to follow. Bernie was close behind as they reached the building, still able to hear some cheers and applause. Sometimes the best thing for morale was the frank truth, especially when people weren't used to it.

Gathering into the small space, Hoffman sighed and looked to Gavriel and Bernie. "We'll have to make sure all the able bodied folks are at least functional with a weapon, and we'll have to burn some ammo to do it. So, get the best shooters we've got rounded up and ready to train. We need to make every shot count, because we don't have a lot of anything to spare."

Gavriel nodded and left, and Bernie shut the door behind him. Sitting in the empty seat in front of the desk, she rested her head in her hands for a moment before looking up at Hoffman. She was obviously troubled, and he knew the idea of shooting any piece of stranded trash that showed its face wasn't the issue.  
"Spit it out, Bernie."  
Sighing heavily, she spoke carefully. "I'm worried. I'm worried about Delta, and our troops. I miss them, and I don't even know if they're ok. We haven't even heard from Trescu or the Gorasni…And we could sure use their support in this, Vic. You know that. Isn't there any way we can get to them? Or reach them…I know it's a bit of a trip, but even if I took a boat on my own…"  
Her voice trailed off, but given her aversion to water, and the pirate Stranded problem, the offer to take a boat trip to Azura just demonstrated the depth of her concern.  
"We've left our radios open. I'll put someone on permanent standby for any incoming calls, but I can't let anyone go off chasing after them when we don't know…" The expression in her eyes caused his chest to tighten, and he realized he was being too blunt, even for Bernie. "…When we haven't heard anything yet. If they need us, they'll find a way to reach us."

As she nodded, the sound of gunfire rattled in the distance. They both shot their eyes to the window as their earpieces crackled to life.  
"Reed to command, we've engaged an enemy vessel. They are circling around trying to-" gunfire cut off the voice in the earpiece and they could hear a scream.

Hoffman threw the door open and strode down the hallway, with Bernie right on his heels.

"Reed here. We have a citizen down, and we're returning fire. Could use some backup. It's gonna get hairy when we try to bring him in."

Bernie slung her rifle back over her shoulder. Cutting out in front of Hoffman, she starting jogging towards the docks, "I guess it's kicked off, then."

More gunfire rattled in the distance as a boat, holding a small squad of gears, roared to life, waiting for them before lurching out into the ocean.

"Yeah, I guess so." He replied, sighting up his lancer in the direction of the gunfire.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

The dining area was busy, even for the evening. It seemed like after a day of hard work, everyone got the idea to unwind at the same time. It was almost like the end of a work week before anyone even knew about the Locust. The bar area was crowded, but as Marcus made his way towards the counter he spotted an empty seat next to Cole. Taking his place, Cole slid a shot glass towards him.

"Started thinkin' you forgot about me. But you know the Cole Train always comes through. Saved you some of the good shit." Patting his hand on the bar top, Dizzy made his way over. Filling the shot glass, he smiled warmly.

"Sure, let him take the credit. I'm the one that _found_ the good shit. It ain't my 'shine, but it'll get the job done."

Downing it quickly, Marcus set the glass back down and nodded. "Yeah, it will."

Cole slapped a hand on his shoulder and pushed both of their glasses across to Dizzy. "You got some catching up to do, baby." As they were being filled, Carmine came up with a plate. Setting it between them, he slammed his hand down on the bar. "Give me another too, Diz. I'm falling behind over here. Cole, check it out. Fucking potato chips." Shoveling a few in his mouth, he noticed Marcus sitting beside him. "Hey, Marcus, I heard about...what happened. I'm sorry, man."

Clenching his jaw, Marcus nodded once. "Me too."

Cole passed out the three, now full glasses, and waved Dizzy over. "Get yourself one to, baby. Tonight, we're drinking for Dom." Holding his glass up, he glanced to Marcus for a moment before looking back to the others. "Dom, and everyone else who helped us win this war and kill those ugly ass motherfuckers for good."

"Well, I'll drink to that. For Dom." Dizzy raised his glass to the others. The silence hung briefly over them before Marcus raised the final glass.

"Yeah, for Dom."

As they set their empty glasses on the counter, Dizzy refilled them before heading down to the other end of the bar where a group of men had gathered around a Gorasni engineer and a young gear arm wrestling. Marcus chuckled quietly and shook his head, turning to face Cole. "You know, he finally paid me that twenty bucks."Cole's booming laughter filled the room for a moment before he picked up his next drink. "Should've known better than to bet against the Cole Train, baby! You know I ain't part of no losin' team."

Finishing the third shot, Marcus rested his hand on Cole's shoulder as he stood.

"Yeah, so I've learned. Thanks for the drink, Gus." he said as he headed for his room.

* * *

"Fuck!"

"That any way to greet a lady?"

Baird rubbed the back of his head, sure he'd have a decent sized bump where it hit the hood. Cursing under his breath, he pulled himself away from the engine he had been staring at for the better part of an hour.

"Well maybe if there was a lady here, I'd mind my manners. Instead, there's just a jerk who thinks it's funny to sneak up on people when they're obviously busy."

Sam rolled her eyes and strode over to the small jeep that was commanding his attention. There were pieces scattered all over the floor and around the inside of the vehicle. It was obvious he was not making much progress on whatever it was he was trying to do. Leaning against the driver side door, she crossed her arms and stared back at Baird.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm always ruining your concentration. What the hell are you doing, anyway? Other than torturing this poor engine?"

Baird disappeared back under the hood. "Trying to convert the engine to take a different type of fuel. This wasn't running to begin with...these scientists didn't even try to fix the damn thing. It's really not that messed up, but I have to fix the shit that was wrong with it in the first place before I can even try to fix shit that isn't technically wrong." He could talk about engine repairs all day. It was almost enough to make him forget that he was still pissed at her. "What the hell are you doing down here anyway? Since when did you come to the maintenance bay just to chat?"

Sam walked around the front of the car and sat back against the bumper. "Maybe I came down to make nice."

Baird paused to raise an eyebrow at her before returning to his work.

"Alright, well, maybe I had some nudging."

"Fucking Cole, man. What did he say?" Baird dropped his tools and stood to face her, looking like he was trying way too hard to seem unconcerned.

Sam flashed him a smile, enjoying the fact that she could read him a little better than he realized. "Nothing, really. Nothing I didn't know. He just reminded me that you're an asshole, and I shouldn't have expected you not to be." She paused, noticing his expression hardening. "What I meant was, you CAN be an asshole."

"Well, as far as anyone is concerned, I AM an asshole. Makes my life simpler. I don't need people thinking I'm ready to do them favors and shit. I've got my own problems here. I might not be a Marcus Fenix, flying into action and earning a fuck-ton of medals, but without fuel it'll be pretty damn hard for anyone to go running around saving us from whatever the hell else is out there."

Sam felt the smile creeping its way back onto her face.

"I say something funny, Byrne?"

She chuckled. "Nah, I just didn't realize you were so concerned that I'd tell everyone your big secret." She punched him on the shoulder playfully. "That you're a regular sensitive guy!"

"Hey! Enough with that shit. Don't make me regret being nice. It doesn't happen much."

She sighed, trying to get the conversation back on the track she intended it to be on. "No, I wasn't trying to. I just...I wanted to thank you, again. And to say sorry for earlier. Even though that wasn't entirely my fault..." She narrowed her eyes at him briefly before continuing. "...I shouldn't have done that in front of the whole mess."

Baird looked down at the floor for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. Sam had never seen him speechless. It was almost scaring her. She finally broke the silence, unable to watch him struggle for words anymore.

"I brought you something." she offered hopefully. She went to the door for a moment and returned with a backpack. Pulling out a small black computer, she handed it over to him.

"What's this?"

"Found it in one of the rooms." She shrugged. "Figured you might be able to do something with it. It won't turn on, and there was no power cord with it, but I figured with all the shit you've collected you might be able to rig something up. I gotta figure they had all these scientists here, maybe one of them saw the fuel issue coming and was trying to do something about it."

"Yeah...maybe." He paused, keeping his eyes glued to his hands. "Thanks, Sam." It had never taken him so much effort to say so few words.

Sam placed her hand on his arm, trying to express her appreciation for his gratitude. She really never had heard him thank her for anything, not without sarcasm dripping off of his words.

"No problem, Baird." She couldn't tell if she was making him uncomfortable or if he was just caught by surprise, so she quickly changed the subject to something she knew they could talk about. "Making any progress, though? With the fuel, I mean."

That question set him off on a long tangent as he began to work on the engine again. He was talking about refinement, reconnaissance, natural energy sources, and a thousand other things. Sam tried to keep up, but between his excitement about anything mechanical that he could actually impact, and her serious lack of decent sleep, her mind started to wander. She found herself thinking about the dreams she'd been having. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't dreamt of someone dying. She thought of her mother and father. The story she had only just learned from Colonel Hoffman before they left Vectes. She thought of all the other gears that had died. The citizens from Pelruan, and all of Vectes for that matter. They had lost so much since E-day, it hardly seemed like the world was going to be able to continue without those they left behind. Her mind flipped back to Dom, crawling towards her in the dream. Dom. She had wanted so much for him to show an interest in her, any interest. But he made it clear to her, in the kindest way possible, that he was, still, totally in love with Maria. She couldn't have competed with that. She found herself wondering if she really had started to love him, or if she loved the idea of him. A kind, good hearted man. A man capable of such love that he searched endlessly for the woman he cared about. A man willing to sacrifice himself for his brother, and his fellow soldiers. Yes, who wouldn't want that? But in all reality, she knew he was never going to be the one for her. Not only was it his undying love for Maria, and she had no right to try and take that from him. But she knew, deep down, she was just wrong for him.

"...and maybe once we get enough to get back to the main land, we can actually do some supply runs. With all the locusts pretty much stopped dead, I know we can find some fuel trucks."

Sam felt the tears starting to run down her cheeks as she tried to wipe her face without drawing any attention to herself. She noticed Baird had stopped talking and looked up to see him staring at her with his head tilted to one side, waiting for her to explain her reaction.

"It's nothing, just...thinking."

"Dom, right?" He asked. By now he had gotten enough pieces of the story to have the entire image in his head; how Dom had ran the truck into the fuel tank to save everyone. He also knew how few times he had seen Sam upset, so it was a pretty fair bet he was right.

Sam nodded slowly and hung her head, wiping her face again and clearing her throat. "Yeah, it's just...It's been a tough few weeks, you know? Sometimes I realize it's been a while since I thought about him, or any of them, and then I feel guilty for forgetting. How can you get over shit without forgetting it?"

"You and Dom..." Baird's voice trailed off, hesitant to ask the question she knew was coming.

Sam shook her head, not looking up.

"Nah. It would have been all wrong. I cared about him, but he was so...broken. I wanted to help him, but some wounds can't be healed. He was never going to be normal again." she snorted, looking up at Baird with a bitter smile. "But who the hell am I to talk about normal? I don't remember ever being normal, so I don't even have something to strive to get back to."

Baird came to her side and sat back against the bumper, looking forward. He didn't want to embarrass her by watching her try to collect herself. He rested a hand on her leg and spoke quietly.

"None of us will ever be normal, Sam." He paused, considering the weight of what he was about to say "You know...It's ok to love a ghost sometimes." She started to speak, but he held up his free hand to stop her. He met her eyes and continued slowly. "I'm not saying you can do what Dom did and hold out for your whole life waiting for that ghost to come back. But you can still care about people and move on. The two things aren't mutually exclusive. Just because someone dies doesn't mean you stop giving a damn about them."

Sam could feel her face getting red, and she swallowed hard to keep from making a total ass of herself in front of him.

"What I'm saying is...you may be fucked up, but there isn't a damn person on this island who isn't. We're all just different degrees of fucked up. It's just about being fucked up together, now." He offered a small smile before standing and returning to his work.

Sam thought his words over carefully. Deciphering Baird-speak was never easy. She suddenly felt serious empathy for Anya, though at least she had years to perfect that skill with Marcus. She never pictured herself spending the time to learn to decode his every word, but it seemed less like a chore now. Maybe he was right. There was no great ocean of souls out there, waiting for their mates. There was only finding the person who was just as messed up as you were and enjoying the camaraderie of your experience. She stood and turned for the door, smiling as he mumbled under his breath at the engine he was buried in yet again. "I'll get out of your hair. Try not to get too caught up in this shit. You'll be here all bloody night."

"Night." he said, and he peered out from under the hood. "Oh and Sam? If you tell anyone I said any of that shit, I'll deny it, and you'll never get my help fixing any of your shit ever again."

He watched her long enough to see her leave, finding his eyes wandering over her body before she pulled the door shut behind her, laughing.

* * *

"You awake?" Anya came into the room and slowly peeled off her armor. She knew, like everyone else, she didn't necessarily need to wear it anymore, but it felt wrong to be without it. She had spent so many years in the standard grey dress and heels, but once she got used to the added weight of the armor, it just felt right. Most of the gears still went around in at least their basic armor. It was so ingrained in all of them to armor up every morning, she sometimes wondered if they would go on wearing it for the rest of their lives, needed or not. She sat heavily on the sofa and peeled off her boots, tossing them into the pile of armor by the bed. Before she could call out again, she heard the shower turn on.

Having the luxury of a shower was not something she took lightly. Over the last sixteen years, showers longer than five minutes were a rare privilege, and hot showers were basically non-existent. She made her way over to the bathroom door and knocked lightly before entering. The steam had already filled the room and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. It was almost too easy to forget just how much the world had changed when things seemed so normal here. It was tempting to lose yourself and your memories in the peace that was so overwhelming. Taking another deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked towards the shower. Through the steam, she could make out the outline of Marcus, standing with his hands against the wall letting the water pour over his head as he stared down. She realized that every time she saw him, he seemed to be drawing even further into himself, pulling farther away from everyone.

In another time, and another place, she would have felt incredibly awkward walking in on him like this, but after all they had been through together, there was no sense in maintaining the illusion that they were anything but a couple. Hell, she hadn't even blinked at the thought of them sharing a room. When she really thought about it, that had been her idea. She had all but pulled rank on him then, as he wasn't really in a decision making frame of mind. And from the start it just felt inherently right. She knew there was no other way she wanted to live, and no other way they should be living. They had wasted enough time, let enough years go by, trying to ignore what existed between the two of them. Now they needed each other more than ever, and there was finally something to look forward to. If only she could get him to the point where he could see that too.

Peeling off the rest of her clothes, she climbed into the shower stall behind him. There certainly wasn't much room with his massive frame taking up most of the space, but she hoped he would appreciate the gesture. Wrapping her arms around his chest, she hugged him tightly and rested her cheek against his spine. His entire body seemed to tense up, still not entirely used to the new aspects of their relationship. They had spent nights together before, even if he never really stayed, and there hadn't been a person on Vectes who hadn't known they were together, but this was different. This level of comfort and ease was alien to him, and for a moment she worried she had made the wrong choice and was pushing him too far. But before she could let go and move away, he had grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it gently in his own. A small gesture on the surface, perhaps, but to Anya, it spoke volumes.

After they finished fumbling around each other, trying too hard to occupy too small of a space just for the sake of being together, Anya wrapped herself in a towel and passed another to Marcus. As she dried her hair with a hand towel, she finally broke the silence. "I ran into Baird on my way up here. He says we might be able to reach Anvil Gate tomorrow. I guess they're making some good progress with the comm net."

"Mhmm." came the grumbled reply.

Anya smiled at him, remembering her dictionary idea. "Sometimes I wonder if you know any real words."

He just huffed at her and made a face that only she would call a smile. It may have been slight, but for him, and considering the circumstances, it counted. It seemed Baird wasn't the only one making progress. Only while Baird was trying to fix machines and electronics, she was trying to fix Marcus. She considered Baird's job much easier.

Making her way into the bedroom she tossed the hand towel into the small pile of laundry they had started accumulating in the corner. She pulled clean clothes from the bag Marcus still kept his things in and set them on the end of the bed for him. She had put her clothes, what few things she kept with her, into a drawer when they first moved in. It somehow helped drive home the point that they were really staying, and they were finally safe. Smiling, she pulled an extra shirt out of his bag and pulled it down over her head. She looked up to see him coming out of the bathroom, his eyebrow raising when he saw her.

"Run out of clothes?"

She laughed softly. "No, this is just more comfortable. Want me to change?"

He walked over and grabbed his clothes and headed back to the bathroom. "Nah. You look nice." pushing the door halfway shut behind him, he spoke loud enough for her to hear. "You and Sam find anything good?"

Trying not to sound too surprised at the conscious effort he must have been making to actually talk, she answered. "We found a good supply of meds, and some clothes for the female gears. Not much in the way of men's stuff yet, but if you guys weren't all so big, we'd have an easier time." Hearing what almost sounded like a laugh from the bathroom, her eyes widened as she continued. "Was there anything you wanted me to look for?"

He came out fully clothed, toweling off his hair before tossing his towel into the pile with hers. "Nah, I got everything I need." He gave her a lingering, meaningful glance before walking over to her, standing merely inches in front of her. Forced to look up to see his face, she tilted her head to one side, silently questioning him. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her close to his chest and sighing deeply. "Thank you, Anya. For everything."

She smiled, as she could feel her eyes welling up. Hugging him tightly, she felt like her heart was going to burst. "Of course." was all she could manage to say.

She hoped sleep would come easier to him that night, but not everything had changed. They may have surpassed some barriers that had existed between them, but the weight of the war couldn't be lifted from a single exchange. It wasn't long before she woke to the sound of the balcony doors opening and saw Marcus heading outside, once again. She considered following him for a moment, but decided against it. She could only bring herself to be so pushy in one day.

* * *

Sam shot upright in bed for the third time that night. Her hands were shaking, and she was on the verge of tears yet again. Sleep wasn't getting any easier, and it was starting to wear on her nerves. Dragging herself into the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror. For a moment, she didn't recognize the woman in front of her. The Sam she knew was a strong warrior, not a sniffling, red-faced girl. She shook her head and sighed, turning off the light. She may not have been completely clear headed, but she knew better than to let her mind linger on how the war had changed her.

On the way back to the bed, her suite door opened. She would have gone for her gun, but these were different times. She reminded herself that the locust army was gone, and it was probably just another drunken gear mistakenly coming into her room. Locking doors was a habit she would have to get back into. Growing up in Anvegad had spoiled her; she never needed to lock the door then. And living in a war ravaged world gave her no doors to call her own, therefore no doors to lock.

"Piss off, then. This isn't your bloody room." she said, not even looking to see who it was as she made her way back to the bed.

"Well you're in a good mood. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Baird was standing in the doorway, clutching a handful of papers.

Snatching up the blanket from the bed for cover, she found herself regretting her decision to sleep without pants on. "Back to catch another glimpse of my ass again?"

"Little late for that. But no. Look." He made his way over to her bed and spread out the pages he was holding, gesturing for her to sit with him. "I was working on the engine and I was thinking about that waterfall on the east side of the island. We've had people mapping the island and this is the best they could come up with. " Shuffling through the stack of pages, he pointed out a map, crudely drawn. "It's past the livestock fields they found, you know, where all the dead cows and shit were? Well, it seems like it runs all year, steady. So, I'm thinking we can build a turbine..." He shifted the papers around and pointed out a sketch. "We can run the generators through them, and that solves a good bit of problems. We'll have to make sure everyone cuts back a little on the energy usage for a while, but it's better than wasting fuel." Sam stared thoughtfully at the pages before her. She was impressed, and her face gave it away, but she knew better than to gush over it. But Baird's smug, satisfied grin told her he knew exactly how great he was. "Of course, you women will all have to take it easy with the baths and blow dryers. No more of that pampering shit for a while until we get the power up and running reliably."

She punched his shoulder lightly and laughed, despite herself. "Yeah, I'll make sure all the ladies know that. Hell, I don't care about pampering, but damn it's nice to take a hot shower. I almost forgot what they were like."

"Yeah, I noticed a few times."

She glared at him briefly, before a smirk crossed her face. "Sneaking up behind me and smelling my hair, were you? I always knew had a crush on me."

"Don't have to sneak up behind anyone who you can smell coming from across the road." He smirked back and gathered up his papers, rising to head for the door. "Maybe we can get you some extra privileges, though, so you can start to smell human again." He ruffled her hair and she smacked his hand away, doing her best not to laugh.

"As long as I don't end up smelling like you. And at least I never had to crawl through sewage..."

He sighed heavily and dropped his head. "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to tell you that?"

She chuckled softly. "Cole-"

"I fucking knew it!"

She placed a hand on his arm, tugging it gently. "Aww, don't be like that, Damon."

He whipped his head up and stared coldly at her. "Don't start with that shit."

"Sorry, blondie. But hey, if you ever had a drink with us like Cole does, maybe you would have told me yourself." She let go of his arm, and he once again made his way to the door. Just before he reached it, he paused and turned back to her.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I think, by tomorrow morning, we might have steady radio contact with Anvil Gate."

Sam's eyes went wide and she nearly launched herself up from the bed towards him. Her mind was racing. She missed her hometown more than she ever thought she would. And she thought of Colonel Hoffman, and Bernie. Dizzy's girls, and the citizens of Pelruan. She missed them. Her heart ached for the people she longed to go see, and the town she grew up in. She tried to contain her excitement, but the hurry in her voice gave it away. "How? Did you fix the radio net? Did you talk to them already? How are they?" She was kneeling on the bed, searching his face for the answer before he could give it.

"No, I mean...kind of. The Gorsansi had patchy radio contact with them on and off since we left Vectes. But we managed to get a stronger signal from here earlier. The crazy tyrant technology strikes again. The strength of the radio net here is impressive. But I think Anvil Gate's radio is off, or unmanned. We can reach them in theory, now we just have to wait for them to check."

Her heart sank a little. "Are you sure the radio is unmanned? What if..." she paused, afraid to speak her thoughts out loud. "...what if there isn't anyone there to answer? I mean, when we were there they said Mercy was an occupied town and in a matter of months, the Stranded there were lambent or dead. What if-"

"They're fine, Sam." He cut her off. "It's the middle of the night, and there hasn't been radio contact in a long time. We'll raise them in the morning."

The certainty with which he said it made her believe him, though part of her knew there was a chance he was wrong. She sighed and sat back on her heels. "Alright, well...If you raise them-"

"When."

"Ok, _when_ you raise them, can you find me first? I'd like to be there."

He nodded and smiled, an uncharacteristically warm one for Baird. "Sure, Sam. I'll come get you." His warmth changed to his usual smug, sarcastic expression. "Maybe you should wear pants for that, though." he said before finally leaving.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

It seemed the news about the radio net had spread quickly. By the time Baird made his way to the control room after rousing Sam, there was already a handful of people waiting. Among them, he immediately noticed Cole, who was impossible to miss anyhow, Marcus and Anya. Seeing Sam coming in with him, Cole raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak. Before any words could make it out, Baird spoke over him, giving him a silencing glare.

"Little crowded in here. Someone throwing a party? Wish you guys told me. I would have brought some cake or something."

The tension in the room was almost palpable. Everyone feared the same things. No one had heard from Anvil gate since Delta had left on their way to Mercy. Not even hopeful static since the weapon Adam Fenix created had been activated. Anya was the first to speak, though quietly.

"Come on, Baird. We waited for you."

Using his better judgment, he held back any further sarcasm and switched the main computer on. Throwing all the switches, Baird sat down on the rolling chair and slid into position in front of the monitor. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, hold on tight. Here we go."

The speakers whined with static and interference before settling into a dull white noise. Flipping through comm channels slowly, he paused at each to listen for any incoming signals. After hearing nothing, he settled back onto what had been the regular channel before taking a deep breath. Sighing heavily, he could feel everyone in the room go completely still. No one was even breathing as he started speaking. "Baird to Anvil Gate, do you copy?"

Silence.

"Baird to Anvil Gate. Anyone receiving?" His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and he could feel Sam coming closer, leaning in to listen intently. Suddenly the speakers screamed to life, nearly knocking Sam over backwards as she recoiled from the loud noise.

"Anvil Gate here. Repeat, please." Everyone glanced around, confused. No one seemed to recognize the voice on the other end of the radio, and the nervous fears started boiling up inside their throats again.

"This is Corporal Baird. We're at Az-"

Marcus had come up behind him and grasped his shoulder firmly. Shaking his head, he held up a finger to cut him off. "Don't give up any location until we know who that is."

Baird swallowed hard and pressed the switch to transmit again. He hated letting Marcus show him up, especially in front of everyone. But he knew he was right, and that made it even harder to bear. "This is Corporal Baird, Delta Squad. We're trying to raise Colonel Hoffman."

"Wait one." The radio hummed for a moment, as if the sender was holding the transmission button but wasn't speaking. After what seemed like an eternity, the voice finally broke the silence.

"Sorry, Corporal. Just checking your story. The only radio contact we've heard incoming was Stranded noise. Nothing from anyone since the Gorasni dropped off our radar a while back. Hoffman's on his way up."

The relief rolled through the room like a wave. Baird swore even Marcus smiled a little. Sam had taken a seat on the arm of his chair and she squeezed his arm, smiling down at him. Light chatter filled the previously silent room for a few minutes before a familiar voice came over the speaker, startling everyone back into silence.

"Baird? Hoffman here. How the hell are you? More importantly, WHERE the hell are you?"

"Nice to hear from you too, Colonel. How are things at the 'ass end of the world'?"

Marcus reached his hand out, gesturing for Baird to hand over the microphone. Rolling his eyes, he passed it to him and rolled the chair to the side, making room for Marcus to lean on the computer desk.

"Colonel, the weapon was deployed. The lambent and the locust are all dead. We're still on Azura. How did your garrison manage?"

Hoffman's voice came back, sarcasm dripping from the words. "Well, it was a damned picnic over here, Fenix. We had ourselves a cook out." he paused for a moment before continuing. "So you found your father then? Did he have anything to say for Prescott?"

The uncomfortable tension pooled back into the room once more, as everyone found themselves staring at Marcus waiting for him to respond. His voice was gruff and low, but calm. "Yeah, we found him. He didn't make it."

A somber silence held for a few seconds, before Hoffman replied. "I'm sorry, Sergeant Fenix. He was a good man."

"Yeah, I'm hearing that a lot lately." he continued quickly, leaving no opening for questions. "Baird seems to have fixed the comm net for now. Whoever we were talking to said something about Stranded. Are you guys having trouble with them?"

"Trouble? Not really. Pain in my ass is more accurate. A pain in my ass I don't have the damn time or patience for."

"So that's a yes?"

There was a brief pause. "Yes. There have been a few incidents, but there's not much you can do about it from there. I've come to understand we have a bit of a fuel problem."

Baird motioned for the microphone. Taking it back, he spoke. "Yeah, nothing I can't solve though. I'm working on it. We've got a bit of a stockpile, though. And the Gorasni held some too. Oh, they're back, by the way. Cole and me tracked them down and brought them and the rest of the folks from Jacinto to Azura for back up. But we've got enough for a roundtrip to Anvil if we had to."

Hoffman's voice came back over the radio, slowly, as though he was choosing his words carefully. "Well, I'm not gonna lie, we could damn sure use some back up, especially from Delta. But I don't feel good about taking good soldiers from a post that needs them."

Glancing around the room, Baird noticed almost everyone had the same expression. The same steely determination. Looking to Marcus for the answer he already knew, Baird was simply waiting for a confirmation. Marcus glanced over to Anya, who nodded. Looking back to Baird, Marcus nodded as well.

"Well, it will take us a bit to prepare, and a few days travel. Rough estimate? We can be there in under a week."

"If you're sure you can spare the man power, I won't turn you down. We'll keep an eye out for you-" suddenly distant gunfire could be heard over the speaker and everyone leaned in close, holding their breath once more.

"Son of a bitch. They're at it again. We'll leave the channel open and have someone man it now that it's up. Don't take your sweet time getting here, Fenix. Hoffman out."

The room went silent again. From somewhere behind him, Baird could hear Cole groan.

"Oh, damn...Don't tell me we have to get back on a damn boat. I'm feeling sick already."

Standing up, Baird turned to face Marcus, who was staring into the monitor, blinking slowly.

"So, Sarge, when are we leaving?"

Marcus thought carefully. "As soon as we can." Moving his gaze to the rest of the room, he spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I'll talk to Sharle and see just how much fuel we'll need. Hopefully Trescu won't mind giving up a smaller boat or two. We'll take a small squad, no more than ten . There's still some serious shit to do here, and we can't leave them vulnerable in case the Stranded somehow discover this island too. In the meantime, we'll keep tabs on Anvil. We can trade off having someone stationed in here so we can know what the hell we're going into. Let's get moving, people. We've got a boat to pack."

As everyone else made their way out of the room, Marcus, Anya, Sam and Cole lingered behind. Marcus looked to Baird, strangely calm. "Do you think you can get the radio on the boat to pick up this signal? I don't want to go in blind."

"Yeah, no problem."

Cole sighed heavily, leaning back against the wall. "Looks like Delta's back in action. So much for peace, right?"

Sam shook her head sadly and looked to Marcus, then Baird. "Hey, what if they ask about..." her voice trailed off, but she knew she didn't have to finish.

Marcus clenched his jaw, and stared forward, seeming to look through the monitors more than at them. "No one says a word. They deserve better than hearing it over a radio. We'll tell them when we land."

Sam nodded and looked down at the floor. As Marcus, Anya and Cole left, Baird nudged her arm. "Come on, we still have a fuel problem to work on, and I sure as shit am not packing lunches when I have better shit to do. Besides, before we go, I can hand those plans over to the Gorasni and they can get started on some of the building."

Sam looked up, pushing the grief from her mind. She smirked and raised her eyebrow at him before heading out the door. "You really think they're going to do something for you?"

Baird snorted as he followed her. "Me? No way. But you, on the other hand….you can just bat your eyes at Yanik and say pretty please."

"Doubtful."

Looking her up and down, he nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe you could trade him a lap dance."

* * *

"Ahhhh, Corporal Baird! Finally decided to come join me? Need help fixing something, or just come to admire my work?"  
Yanik had poked his head out of the boat engine long enough to see who was approaching.  
Setting a thick stack of papers onto the toolbox before peering into the engine himself, Baird shook his head and laughed. "No way am I admiring this rusted bucket. But I guess it is impressive that it's not at the bottom of the ocean yet."  
Yanik burst into laughter and returned to his place. "You COG have no respect for fine machinery! You are spoiled with your fancy equipment. This boat is older than you, and it still gets more work done!"

"Yeah, yeah. All of us gears are so lazy, we couldn't even be bothered to help pull your asses out of the shit when you needed us. Oh, wait."  
Still Laughing, Yanik stood and faced him. "Yes, I do remember something like that. So what can I do for the COG today? Since you're not here for the view."  
Baird tilted his head towards the stack of papers on the toolbox and pulled a single page from his chest pocket.  
"This." Unfolding it, he handed over the plans for the turbine he had drawn up.  
Taking the paper, Yanik stared hard for a moment before passing it back. "What you want me to do with this?"

"Build it."

"You have big plans, Corporal Baird? So big you can't be bothered with this build?"  
Baird shrugged and set the paper onto the top of the stack. "That's the other part of why I came down here. We need to borrow a boat or two…We're going back to Anvil Gate. There's a problem with the Stranded."  
Yanik dropped his tools and stood up. Leaning forward towards Baird, he spit on the ground. "So, you need our boats, but we're not good enough to earn a place on your trip? I would love the chance to kill more stranded dogs! I have too many bullets and nowhere to put them, eh?"  
Leaning back, Baird put his hands up and shook his head. "No way, man. Nothing like that. If it were my call, I'd take a few Indies along just so they could get in the target practice." Leaning back against a pole on the pier, he looked around at the other boats before continuing. "But, it's not my call. Just my luck promotions aren't based on intelligence. Besides, seeing as most of the folks at Anvil Gate are the folks from Pelruan, our fearless leader decided that it would be better for everyone it we didn't raise the tension any higher. Plus, we have to leave some decent troops here in case there's a problem before we get back."  
Yanik nodded, and sighed heavily. "Yes, I see. Well we will keep extra close eyes around here. Maybe more stranded show up and we can get all the 'practice' you think we need." Smiling, he clapped a hand on Baird's shoulder. "Maybe the COG can continue as long as you have the glorious sons of the Republic of Gorasnaya here to pull YOUR asses out of the shit, eh?" Looking past Baird, he smiled warmly. "My _duchashka_! You have returned to me!" Yanik reached up and pulled his hat off, bowing his head in exaggerated reverence. Baird kept himself from rolling his eyes as he turned to see Sam walking towards them.  
"Of course. How have you been? Blow the hell out of anything, lately?" Sam came up and joined Baird facing the boat and looked down at the stack of papers. "Ahh, I see blondie told you about the project we had in mind."  
Yanik returned his cap to his head and nodded, still smiling. "This was your idea, yes? Too good of an idea to come from anyone else."  
Sam chuckled and patted his arm. "Not quite, but I did help."  
Baird scoffed and turned to face her. "If by help you mean watched while I worked…"  
Yanik laughed. "Don't let him talk to you like that, duchashka. I'll straighten him out, if you like." He said with a wink.

"He's not so bad once you get used to him." Sam said, smiling over at Baird. "Did he tell you we were headed to Anvegad?"  
"Yes. It's very sad. I won't get to see you, or shoot any stranded. Life will be boring here."  
"Well, at least you've got something to do while we're gone. "

Suddenly Marcus' gruff voice came through their earpieces, startling both of them."Fenix to Baird. Sharle needs a word with you. He'll be in the control room."

"On my way." Looking back to Yanik, he shrugged. "Duty calls. Coming, Sam?"  
"Right behind you. I'll come say bye before we ship out, ok?"  
Yanik smiled brightly and took her hand cordially. "Yes, please do. And when you get back you will see just how much work a Gorasni man can get done with no beautiful women to distract him."

They turned and headed back towards the hotel as Yanik returned to working on the boat. Sometimes Baird found it hard to remember just how much contempt he had held for the Indies before Vectes. When he really thought about it now, he realized he almost felt more like an Indie than a Gear some days. He envied their attitude and work ethic. It was like it was bred into them, and that's something he envied. His breeding hadn't done him much good, after all. Sam's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Well, that went well. At least they'll have the power taken care of."

Baird nodded and smirked. "Yeah, and you didn't even have to take your clothes off."

* * *

Royston Sharle had never been a calm man, but this new development with the fuel source had really thrown the poor bastard over the edge. When Baird walked into the control room, he saw the man disheveled and unshaven, leaning over a table, eyes darting over countless maps and papers covered in handwritten notes.

"Man, I gotta say, you need to get some sleep. You're gonna be seeing these figures in your head every time you friggin' blink."

Sharle's eyes glanced up, and quickly returned to the papers. "If I COULD sleep, I would. But this shit isn't going to work itself out, Corporal. Have you SEEN these numbers? I don't know who thought you'd make it to Anvil Gate AND back, but-"  
"But nothing. We're going."  
"_But_, Corporal Baird, you can go all you want, but the getting back will be the tough part. _Assuming_ you don't encounter any problems on the way, or on the way back, the fuel reserve we can spare to leave enough here to run things while you're off saving the other side of the world, will leave you about 150 klicks offshore. If you're lucky."

Baird stared at the papers carefully, attempting to make sense of the jumbled notes scattered over several pages. Several x's on the map, accompanied by numbers and arrows to other points, seemed to demonstrate Sharle's point. Sighing heavily, Baird shuffled through some of the other pages slowly, looking for something that would say the nervous man in front of him was simply a man who'd seen one too many end-time scenarios and was losing mind.

"Have you told Sargent Sunshine about this yet?"

"Yeah." He scoffed. "Crazy bastard still wants to go." Pulling the pages from Baird's hand, he spread them back out on the table and starting pointed to different marks.

"THIS is where you'll get if the weather turns to shit, and THIS is where you'll get if you go even a little off course in either direction. You know how hard it is to maintain a one hundred percent steady course in piss poor weather? And don't even get me started on the food that we don't have to send, or the troops that we really need here making this place more habitable…" his voice trailed off as his thoughts started running together.

Stepping back from the table, Baird pressed his finger to his ear piece and spoke quietly. "Baird to Fenix…Uh, have you spoken to Sharle, yet?"  
Marcus' voice came back. If Baird had to guess, he sounded pissed, but he pretty much always did. "Yes. We're going. You're just going to have to help him figure this shit out."  
"Oh sure, everything always falls on the genius. Solving the world's problems one sleep deprived management chief at a time. Anything in particular you want me to tell him, or should I just knock him over the head and have someone drag him off to bed until he can see straight again?"  
"Shit. He wasn't that bad when we talked. Just, I don't know, tell him about that turbine you planned. Tell him something to settle him down."  
Baird shook his head slowly as he replied "Yeah, sure. In the meantime, maybe you need to send Doc Hayman up here with some nice happy pills, 'cause I don't see this ending without a strong sedative. Baird out."

Walking back over to join Sharle, Baird put on his best comforting voice. It wasn't impressive, but he hoped it would do. He suddenly found himself missing Bernie, but he swore it was only for her natural ability to calm the other guys down.

"Look, Sharle. I think you guys will do just fine." Sharle's eyes shot up, looking frantic as his mouth opened to speak. Baird held up a hand and cut him off, desperate to escape another long episode of rants. "I have Yanik and his men working on the energy issue here. Shouldn't take them long at all to get a steady water turbine running, which should power the hotel pretty well. The farmland is still viable, and people have already seen some livestock running around in the jungle. Not to mention there's enough food stockpiled for a major disaster, and I'm pretty sure this counts. So, calm the hell down, and just tell me how much fuel we need to get two small crafts to Anvil and back."

Sharle stared at him for a long moment before taking a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he reached for a pen and scribbled some numbers onto a small sheet of paper. Shoving it at Baird, he turned back to his table. "That's the best and worst case scenarios I can give you. Take as much as you think we can spare and hopefully between now and the time you get there, we'll find a solution to this mess and be able to radio you."

After a short internal debate about whether he should prod for more information, Baird turned and left the frazzled man to his papers, silently hoping he never became that obsessed with a problem.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8:**

"So, we've got two boats; a patrol boat and a trawler. Baird managed to talk Yanik into lending us Amirale Enka, and Trilliant. It's not much, but it'll get us there, and we'll have the benefit of knowing our way around them a bit. It's better if we split into two boats, two groups of four." Marcus spoke with a certainty that would cause any Gear to wonder why he wasn't a Colonel already.

A small group of Gears was gathered around in the lobby, presumably to volunteer for the trip. There were no secrets on this island, so it seemed. No one was sure how to feel about that.

Dizzy stepped forward from the crowd and took off his hat. Running his hand over his bandana he spoke up first. "Marcus, I know you ain't got much room on them boats, but I sure hope you can find room for me. My girls are still back at Anvil Gate, and they're prob'ly missing me as much as I miss them. Can't hurt to have an ex-Navy man along, right?"

Marcus nodded once. "Sure, Diz. You know you were the first on my list." He raised his voice to address the rest of the crowd. "So we've got me, Lieutenant Stroud," pausing, he spared her a glance. Anya stood close by, and though he called her formally, no one was unaware of their relationship anymore. She smiled wistfully, knowing some things would never change. "…Dizzy, Cole and Baird, Byrne, Carmine, and Jace. The boats are small enough, so there's no use cramming too many onboard. We'll basically be standing on top of each other as is. Any more men and we'd end up shooting each other,"  
Gill Gettner stepped forward, a sight rarely seen outside of her beloved raven. "Love to take the trip, and I'm not much for boats anyhow. Can we spare enough fuel for a raven? I'm sure you boys could use a spotter out in front."Everyone could tell Gettner was on edge, constantly. She barely knew what to do with herself when her raven couldn't be fueled. It was hard to turn her down, but it simply wasn't going to happen.

Shaking his head, Marcus stared down for a moment before sighing heavily. "No, sorry. We've barely got enough to fuel the boats."

Gettner nodded solemnly, and as a few other gears started to speak up, he saw her quietly slipping away.

"I know some more of you would love the chance to come along, but it just isn't gonna happen. Sorry if we got anyone's hopes up." Grumbles and murmurs briefly filled the room, but quickly died down. There was simply no disagreeing with Marcus Fenix. "We'll be leaving ASAP. Probably tomorrow morning. We should be able to keep in radio contact the whole way, but if anything goes to shit, Mathieson is in charge. "

Donneld Matheison was standing nearby, supported by his crutches. The prosthetic legs were a great improvement, but still far from comfortable. He stepped forward and met Marcus' eyes solidly, nodding. Turning to face the crowd, he spoke evenly, in the tone he had refined while serving in the CIC. "From now until they get back, we'll be doing the same thing we've been doing. Since they've been having trouble with the Stranded at Anvil, we'll set up a few small patrol groups, but I don't see them discovering this place out of the blue. But there's still plenty to be done, and we plan on getting this place in shape before they get back."

After a few moments the crowd dispersed, leaving the handful of those planning on leaving standing in the vast lobby. The noise of construction and the dull hum of laughter and talking in distant rooms served as an odd reminder of the way life used to be. Most of the gears had spent over half their lives fighting locust, and the calm was eerie. They stood staring around at each other and the lobby, no one wanting to admit they would rather leave now than wait for the morning. Cole spoke up first, attempting to lighten the somber atmosphere as usual.  
"So, another trip on a damn fishing boat? Who gets stuck with me, 'cause I'm feeling mighty sorry for them already."  
Baird smirked and nudged Cole's arm with his elbow. "Hell, I'll take you. I'm used to that shit from way back."

Anya laughed a little and patted Cole's other arm. "Yeah, Cole. You're good company, sea sickness or not. Besides, we'll have to take shifts sleeping anyhow. The trip is about 26 hours steady, and there's no way we can afford to take any risks with stranded pirates hanging around. We figured you, Baird, Sam and Jace on one, and Marcus, Dizzy and Carmine, and I will take the other." Anya paused for a moment, feeling extremely self-conscious. It wasn't often she would slip into an informal acknowledgement of the discussions she and Marcus had when no one else was around. Typically plans were made in the company of other Gears. But she seemed to be the only one who noticed, or at least the only one caught off guard. It would still take some getting used to and sometimes she wondered if she'd ever get used to everyone considering them an official couple. "That way we'll have an ex-navy on one boat," she glanced at Dizzy and smiled as he tipped his hat towards her "and someone who knows the way to Anvegad on the other."

Sam nodded and smiled, but her eyes gave away her concern. "What happens if we get separated, or if something happens to one of-"  
"Nothing is going to happen." Marcus cut her off.  
"I know we'd like to think that, Marcus. But we need to plan for anything. We're gonna be a long way from home, with no extra fuel and a spotty comm net."  
"Excuse me, but some of us have been working our asses of on _fixing_ the spotty comm net." Baird put his arm around her shoulder as he continued. "Besides, if any of those stranded assholes try to crash our yacht party, I'll be happy to put a bullet in their asses, and their boats." Catching Marcus raise an eye brow, which from him may has well have been holding up a sign that said "what the fuck?", Baird promptly dropped his arm and stepped away. "Come on, Cole. We got some ammo to liberate for our journey to the old world. Plus, I can smell chow from here. It's almost lunch time, ladies."

"Maybe Cole should hold off on eating if he's gonna be riding with us." Jace said, turning to follow them to the armory.  
"Baby, it ain't gonna make a bit of difference, but I damn sure ain't deprivin' myself of good food when I can get it. I'll just contribute to the aquatic ecosystem better this way!" His booming laughter filled the hallway until they turned down the corridor.  
"Alright, well I suppose I oughta show the boys where I keep the good 'shine and stash some for the trip." He nodded his head to Marcus and tipped his hat towards Sam and Anya. "Ladies. See you folks in the mornin'."

Marcus turned to face Anya and Sam. "I'm heading back up to talk to Sharle. Again. Can you guys start getting the food together?" Anya smiled softly at him and nodded. Sam swore he almost smiled back. Nodding his head slowly and deliberately to Anya, he let his eyes linger on hers for a moment before turning to go.

"So, does he think that anyone doesn't know about you two?" Sam said, smirking at Anya.  
"I think it's just easier to fall into our comfort zone. Someone recently told me that old habits die hard. And you know, if you don't wipe that grin off that face, people are gonna start calling you Baird."

"Ohhh yeah, and you!" Sam narrowed her eyes at Anya. "Was putting me on a boat with blondie _your_ idea?"  
Anya chuckled and shook her head. "Surprisingly, it wasn't really intentional. It just happened to work out that way."  
Sam rolled her eyes and started off for the store room, with Anya close behind. "Sure it did."

* * *

The boats were loaded with a three day supply of food and enough ammo for a decent stand off each. There was just enough space left below deck for two people to lie down and sleep. Once the packing was done, the wait until morning felt like an eternity. Anya had returned to CIC to make her own attempt at placating Sharle. Marcus had thrown himself into finishing repairs on another small bedroom suite. Jace, Carmine and Dizzy were in the dining room, sharing drinks with the other gears, who made sure they were getting a proper send off. Cole was outside playing thrashball with the kids, and Baird was most likely in the maintenance bay, as usual, tinkering with the jeep engine again.

Sam found herself wandering aimlessly around the halls for a while, trying to keep her mind off of the trip. She couldn't really explain why her nerves were so frayed over it, but there was no denying her stress. Eventually she made her way back to her room, checking the clock to see they still had 12 hours until they planned to leave. She took a long shower and dressed for bed, only managing to pass 20 minutes. Resigning herself to a night of fitful sleep, she had just pulled the sheets down when she heard a heavy knock on the door. Pulling it open, she found Baird leaning against the door frame with a longshot barrel resting under his hand, balancing the stock on the floor.  
"Brought you something." he said, walking past her and tossing it onto the couch.  
"Gee, blondie, come on in." Closing the door behind her, she made her way over and picked up the gun, instinctively checking it over before leaning it against the wall by the door with the rest of her kit.  
"You're welcome, by the way." He flopped onto the couch and put his feet up on the table, pulling a small bag of chips from his pants pocket. Holding it open towards her, he waited a moment as she stood with her arms crossed staring at him before shrugging and popping a few into his mouth.

"So, is this going to become a nightly ritual for you and me? You pop into my room before bed and we chat about our day?"

"Hey, I thought you'd appreciate some decent company." Crumbling the now empty bag, he shoved it back into his pocket and brushed his hands off on his pants before standing back up. "But hey, if you don't want me here, I can take a hint."  
"Don't you think we'll be seeing enough of each other tomorrow?"

Baird grinned and walked over to stand right in front of her. Looking down at her, he chuckled. "What's wrong, Sam? Worried you won't be able to get any sleep knowing I'm right above you? You'll be too hot and bothered?"

She brought her fist up to punch him in the shoulder, but he caught it and grabbed her other arm with his free hand. With her arms pinned to her sides, she glared up at him, fuming. "Let go, you asshole."

"I'll let go…" he pressed his forehead against hers. "…if you admit it."

"I'll admit you're about three seconds away from getting a knee straight to the balls."

"Well that won't help you any."

She tried to bring her knee up, but he turned his body to the side and pressed her back into the wall. Leaning down into her ear, he spoke quietly. "You know I'm right."

She growled at him under her breath. "Fuck you, Baird."

He leaned back, but maintained his grip. "Getting closer, but I don't think that technically counts. Add an 'I want to' and maybe a preposition, and we've got something."

Rolling her eyes, she relaxed her arms. "If you are looking for an admission, how about we start with you admitting what keeps bringing you to _my_ room at night? I think if anyone needs to get something off their chest, it's you."

"Talking about getting things off your chest? We must be making progress." He dropped her arms and continued. "I really just came to bring you that," he said, nodding his head towards the gun as he continued. "But then you're walking around in your underwear and a tee shirt, so I guess I was just trying to take a hint." He smirked as she tugged the shirt down to cover herself.  
"What the hell has gotten into you, blondie?"  
"A few rounds of Dizzy's finest."

She shoved him back, hard. Her voice became fiercely low. "So that's it then? You tie one on and decide to come looking for a piece of ass? Well, you can get the fuck out of here, then. Come talk to me when you sober up." She stormed over to the door and pulled it open, only to find him right behind her.

Slamming the door with one hand, he trapped her between his arms, with her back to the door. "No, damn it. Sam, I'm not drunk. Just finally seeing things clearly. We're not that different; you and me."

She stared at him coldly. "Oh yeah, how's that?"

"Well, you see, we both act like hard bastards who don't give a shit about anything." He paused and stared at her meaningfully for a moment. "But we both know that's not true." He hesitated briefly again, seemingly attempting to work out exactly what he was trying to say. "We care about shit that's important."

She softened her glare and tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "And what is it you care about, Damon? Other than machinery and computers?"

He groaned in frustration and hung his head for a moment, before his trademark grin slowly worked its way back to his lips. Raising his eyes up to meet hers, he chuckled softly. "Well, I was getting there, if you'd ever quit yapping. But, I've always been better at 'show' than 'tell', anyhow." Hoisting her up over his shoulder, he carried her towards the bed. "I'll give you one hint…"


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9:**  
**Azura, 7:00**

"So, you guys had a good time last night?" Anya was leaning against a pole on the pier, watching Jace fighting off dry heaves as Carmine laid flat on his back nearby.  
"Guess you could say that." Pulling himself away from the edge of the dock, Jace sat back against the next pole and rubbed his head. "Don't let Dizzy anywhere near me again. Ever."  
Laughing softly Anya patted his shoulder gently. "Don't worry, Jace. I'm sure you're not the first."  
Marcus climbed out of the first trawler. Looking over the men on the dock, he shook his head and grunted, which could only be translated as a laugh because it was Marcus. "Rough night?"  
Carmine rolled over and sat up, groaning. "Sorry, Sarge. Won't happen again."  
"You guys earned a break. Just make sure you're ready. You've got ten minutes. Go get yourselves hydrated and fed. And Carmine, no puke in the boat, got it?"

"Yes sir." Carmine stood and offered a hand to Jace. Pulling him up, they trudged off in the direction of the kitchen.

Anya walked over to the boat, handing Marcus the last of the small ammo boxes. "That was nice of you."  
Marcus shook his head, setting the box on the deck of the boat with the others. "Nothing nice about it. They deserve to have a good time." Scoffing, he pulled his lancer from his back and checked it over. "Wish they picked a different night to do it, though."

"They'll be fine. They just need some food in their stomachs." Anya looked at her watch, then down the dock. "I passed Cole and Dizzy when I went for coffee. Have you seen Baird or Sam?"

Marcus shook his head again and returned his lancer to his back. "No, but they've still got time." Pausing, he nodded his head in the direction of the beach. "Speak of the devils."  
Turning, Anya saw Baird and Sam walking towards them. They were chatting quietly, and she swore they were both actually smiling, without the usual sarcastic expressions they tended to have permanently plastered on their faces whenever they spoke for longer than five seconds. As Baird spotted her, he took a half step away from Sam and his expression shifted into the normal arrogant grin.

"Look, Sam, we got here just in time. They already finished loading up." Baird sat down, hanging his feet out over the pier and looked out into the ocean. "So, when do we ship out?"  
Anya stared at Sam for a moment, and tilted her head in Baird's direction, her expression completely suspicious. Sam smiled, despite herself, and mouthed back. _Later. _

Anya cleared her throat, trying to contain her questions. "Uh…As soon as the rest of the guys get here. Jace and Carmine had a busy night." She spared another knowing glance at Sam, suppressing a laugh. "They went to get something to eat, and probably in search of something for headaches. Cole and Dizzy should be here any minute."

"Hope Cole didn't eat. I'm not cleaning that shit up." Baird hopped up and stepped across onto the rear deck of the trawler. "Oh look, we're getting an audience."

Along the beach a group of gears had gathered, waiting to see them off. The gesture was nice, but eerie. Baird found himself thinking it felt like a burial at sea was about to occur, and he could only hope he was wrong. Scanning the crowd, he spotted Yanik jogging towards the pier.  
"Ahh, so glad I caught you before you leave!" He stopped in front of Sam and opened his arms wide. "Life will not be the same without you, Duchaska."  
She hugged him and laughed warmly. Anya glanced over at Baird and caught the look on his face, which she could only describe as predatory. Catching Anya staring he quickly composed himself, but he knew she had seen him.  
"Hey, Yanik, when are you starting on that turbine?" he called, leaning on the deck rail, trying a little too hard to look apathetic.

Letting go of Sam, he walked over to the edge of the deck and smiled. "We already have. You underestimate the work ethic of the Gorasni, yet again. I just took a small break to come see you off. Shoot many stranded for me, yes?"  
Baird snorted. "No problem." Looking up, he saw the others heading towards the dock, stopping occasionally to chat with the gears standing around the beach. Reaching his hand out, he offered it to Yanik. Yanik shook it firmly and his typical cheery demeanor went away for a brief moment. "You make sure you all come home, yes? All of you. No getting your asses blown up, eh?"

Baird nodded solemnly as he let go. Yanik's smile returned. "I see you soon, then, Blondie-Baird." He gave one more bear hug to Sam, shook Marcus' hand and bowed his head to Anya before heading back towards the beach.

Sam came over and climbed onto the deck of the trawler, leaning on the rail next to Baird. She watched as the others made their way down the pier. Staring forward, she spoke quietly. "So, off to Anvil Gate, then?"  
"Yup."  
"Long trip."  
"Yup."

"We going to pretend nothing happened last night?"

Baird froze for a moment, forcing himself to keep his eyes forward. "That your plan?"  
Sam turned her eyes to him briefly before returning her gaze to the dock. "Not really. Just not sure where to go from here."  
"Thought we were going to Anvil Gate."  
"Clever. I just mean, for now anyway, we should probably keep this quiet."  
Baird scoffed. "Funny, after last night I'd swear you didn't know how to keep quiet." He grunted as she elbowed him in the side, immediately regretting the decision to wait to put on his armor. "Ok, quiet it is. But I gotta tell ya, I think Anya knows. And if she knows, Marcus knows. And I'm pretty sure Cole will figure it out, so really, it's a lost cause."

Sam began to speak, but immediately stopped. The others had finally reached the pier and were well within hearing distance. She smiled at Cole and Dizzy, and when her gaze fell to Jace and Carmine she found herself laughing. "Well, aren't you boys a sorry sight. What the hell happened to you?"  
finishing the coffee in his cup, Jace shook his head slowly. "Dizzy, man…"  
Coming up behind him, Dizzy clapped a hand on his shoulder, nearly causing him to drop the empty cup. "Now boys, don't go blamin' your troubles on me. I just supply the materials. What you do with it is up to you." That earned a laugh from Cole, which caused Jace to wince.  
Carmine chuckled, clearly feeling better than Jace. "Yeah, some of us are a little better about that than others. Speaking of, Baird, where'd you run off to? You missed most of the fun."  
Baird grinned. "You kidding? Seeing the sorry shape you assholes were in, I made sure to get the hell out of there. I wasn't getting roped into that shit. I've seen what Dizzy's moonshine can do to you. Ask Rossi. He sure as hell won't forget that tattoo any time soon." Nudging Sam with his elbow, he moved towards the wheel. "Come on, ladies. I hate long goodbyes."

Marcus stood staring at the beach for a long moment. Coming up behind him, Anya rested her hand on his arm. "You ready for this?"  
"Mhmm." His ice blue eyes were distant. It was almost as though he were staring not at a different place, but a different time. Shaking his head slightly, he sighed and turned back towards the boats. Everyone was loaded onto their own vessels, staring back at him.

Sparing one last look at Azura, he looked down at Anya. "Alright. Time to go."

Climbing onto the deck of his trawler, he held his hand out to Anya and pulled her onboard. He spoke across the deck rails to Baird and the others. "We'll keep a steady pace, and maintain a distance of at least 2 klicks apart, unless the weather turns to shit. We need to keep visual contact, but I don't want us close enough together for one thing to wreck both boats. Baird, you check the radios yet?"

Baird nodded. "Of course. Already radioed and told them we're on our way. They're putting out the good china for us. Granny's making dinner. It'll be a regular family reunion, only instead of screaming at each other, we're pirate hunting."

Marcus nodded back and turned to Dizzy. "You heard the man, Diz. Time to move out."

As the boats got up to speed, with Dizzy and Baird at the wheels, everyone found their own place to settle in. Cole found a good place to hang his head over the side, waiting for the inevitable. Jace went below deck to nurse his hang over, as did Carmine. Sam stood leaning on the back railing, as did Anya on her own boat. Neither one wanted to take their eyes off the island until it fell out of sight. Marcus found himself at the head of the boat, staring straight ahead. Centering his bandana on his head he scanned the horizon repeatedly before settling into a comfortable position with his eyes fixed forward. About ten minutes passed before Anya came to join him. They sat in a comfortable silence for some time before she finally spoke. "Do you have a plan?"  
His voice was low, and even. "It's up to Hoffman how he wants to handle the Stranded. He can tell them whatever he likes. We're just going to make sure they listen."

Anya nodded, and stared down at her feet. She took a deep breath, hesitating before responding. Her voice was a whisper, just barely audible over the engine. "I meant about what you're going to tell them…About Dom."  
Marcus clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, wondering if it would ever be easier to think about. Realizing there was still a dull ache in his chest when he thought of Carlos, he closed his eyes tightly for a moment, sighing heavily. "The truth. They deserve it, and so does he."

* * *

**Anvil Gate:**

"You know, I never thought I'd envy a dog."

Bernie sat on the window ledge with her elbows resting on her knees. Tossing Mac her last bit of jerky, Hoffman couldn't even begin to guess from what, she wiped her hands on her pants leg before standing and rubbing the dog's head lovingly.  
"Aw, Vic, don't be that way." Walking over to him she patted him on the arm. "You're still my favorite."  
He scoffed. "I'll believe that when I get my own side of the bed to myself again. You know you're gonna have to let him retire soon."  
"Watch it, now. I don't say that about you." Sitting down on the edge of the bed behind her, she tightened her boots. "Don't pretend you hate him. I've caught you feeding him, too." Mac stared at her from beside the door. Licking his lips, he whined softly.

"Only the shit that I don't know what it is." Adjusting his armor, he glanced at the mirror to straighten his cap. "Damn, Bernie, when did we get so old?"

She walked up behind him and laughed. "What's this 'we' business?" she turned him to face her, adjusting his cap and smoothing his sleeves on his shoulders. Patting his chest plate, she smiled warmly. "I'm still fit enough to carry a weapon and use it efficiently, and so are you. When that changes, you can talk about your age." She picked up his lancer from its usual place against the bed and held it out to him.

Reaching out to take it, he nodded. "You heading out?"

"Yeah, gonna do some hunting." Mac whined again, thumping his tail against the floor.

Hoffman jerked his head towards the dog. "He thinks you mean Stranded, you know."

Walking over to her bedside, she picked up her longshot and checked it over before strapping it to her back. She picked up her lancer and opened the door with her free hand. "He may be right." Mac trotted out ahead of her, glancing back impatiently.

Hoffman reached out and caught her by the arm. "Be careful, woman. I don't want you coming back full of holes, understood?" She nodded solemnly before he let go. "And I heard from Delta. Baird radioed in a bit ago. They're on their way."

Bernie found herself smiling at the mention of Baird, and wondered if she was getting old and soft after all. "Well there's some good news. How long?"

"Should be in tomorrow morning, by their best guess. It'll be a regular damn reunion."

"Will they all be coming along, then?" She tried hard not to sound too hopeful.

Hoffman shrugged. "Near as I can tell. I know Baird and Fenix are, and you know where Baird is, Cole will be. And if Fenix is coming, Dom and Anya will be too." Hoffman paused, shaking his head. He found himself thinking of Aspho Point, the time when all of their lives seemed to really merge for the first time. "Sometimes it feels like yesterday that Dom was a fresh commando. Hell, him and Fenix were only nineteen, and Anya was barely old enough to be enlisted. Young kids barely out of high school, fighting their asses off in a war with humans. No grubs…No glowie grubs. We had a tangible, understandable enemy." Back then, no one ever imagined that the Indies would not always be their worst enemy, let alone an eventual ally. Everything in the world had changed so drastically, it almost seemed that the memories were purely imagination. "Gotta tell yah, Bernie, this isn't helping me feel younger."  
"Nostalgia will do that, Vic." She said, patting his arm lightly before turning for the door again. "Just wait until we can't do anything but sit in rockers on the porch. Then you can feel old."

"When that day comes, you can shoot me."

* * *

**Delta Two, Amirale Enka **

**13:00**

Sam looked out ahead to check for the other boat, as she had done every ten minutes it seemed. The distance made her feel uneasy, but everyone knew it was necessary.

"They haven't gone anywhere, Sam. Trust me, we're not gonna lose them." Baird, stepped out from behind the wheel, picking up the pair of binoculars he had hanging around his neck to scan the horizon ahead of them.

Taking a seat on the small bench that extended along the side wall, Sam stretched her legs out and looked over the interior. The boat was far from fancy. The trawler was larger than she had expected, and the cabin below the wheel house was a pleasant surprise. It seemed nearly impossible that the boat was floating, but luckily appearance had little to do with function. The cloth on the cushions was frayed and worn, and there was a lingering fish smell that would never be gone no matter how long it aired out. There was rust on pieces she didn't even know were metal. She found herself wondering if it physically pained Baird to be on a vessel in a state of such decay.

"Something funny over there?" Baird watched her from the corner of his eye for a moment before returning his surveying.

She laughed. "Just wondering how much of this trip you've spent thinking of what needs to be fixed in this rust bucket."

Dropping the binoculars, he turned to face her. "Hey, show some damned respect. This 'rust bucket' is the only thing standing between us and a very fast death. Have you forgotten what a pain in the ass it is to _swim_ in this shit?" He tapped his fist against his chest plate.

Before she had a chance to reply, Cole shouted up from the rear deck. "How long have we been gone?" He was sprawled out on his stomach with his head resting on his arms. With every major wave he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.  
Setting the boat to autopilot, Baird went out to join him. "You mean, 'are we there yet?' No. We've been moving about six hours. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be running on empty soon." Baird took a place against the rear deck rail. Leaning against the rail with his arms folded he stared over at Cole, trying to look unconcerned. Sam made her way to the lower cabin, and returned moments later with a bottle of water. She handed it over to Cole before leaning next to Baird on the rail. "You sure he's alright?"  
"Don't worry, Mom, I'm not ruining the good linens." Cole said, managing to laugh before heaving himself forward to stick his head over the side again.

"He's fine. Boats aren't his thing." Raising his voice, he called back to Cole. "Didn't Hayman give you anything to take?"  
Cole pulled himself up and leaned his back against the railing, stretching his legs out in front of him. It was almost comical how much space he actually took up. "Yeah, but that ain't much use to me on the bottom of the ocean, is it?" He drank the water slowly, looking over at Sam. "Don't worry, baby. Couple more hours you won't even notice me. Damon got used to it over the years."  
"Hey, I don't give a shit how much you puke, so long as you can get your ass in gear when you need to. So far, you have never had that problem. And hey, at least I don't have to listen to it in stereo anymore." Baird jerked his head in the direction of the lower cabin where Jace had finally fallen asleep after a few hours of competing with Cole for who could fill the ocean quicker.  
"You're all heart, Damon." Cole said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

* * *

**Delta One, Trilliant:**

**17:00**

"So you think Pad will be around when we get back?" Anya had come up to the wheel house to join Dizzy. Marcus was still stationed at the front of the boat, keeping his eyes fixed forward on the horizon where the sun was just beginning its descent. Carmine had finally pulled himself out of the cabin and was resting his back against the rear deck rail, chewing on a ration bar.  
"Well, ma'am, never know. Since the Pesangas moved into Anvil with the rest of us, he was hangin' around more. But, you know Pad. Never stays in one place much." Dizzy checked the radar screen, scanned over the console, and set the boat to autopilot. He took a seat next to Anya and pulled out his flask. Holding it out to Anya, he waited for her to shake her head before shrugging and taking a long drink. He nodded his head towards Marcus. "How's he holdin' up?"  
"Well, you know Marcus." She chuckled a little, "He's doing alright, I think. I don't really expect our welcome to be easy on him, but I guess it won't be easy for any of us."  
Dizzy nodded solemnly. Returning the flask to his pocket, he took off his hat and rubbed his head briefly. "No, don't suspect it will be. But things need sayin'. Whether he was comin' along or not, I expect he'd want to be the one to break the news. He's never been a man to shy away from a tough situation."

She stopped herself from disagreeing. Tough situations Marcus was a pro at. Tough _emotional_ situations were certainly not his forte. But Dizzy was right about this one. Marcus was too devoted to Dom to let anyone else have the hard job of telling the others what happened. She never thought she'd feel grateful for being there to hear exactly what happened to her mother. But in true selfless form, she was simply glad no one else had to be the one to break the news to her.

Remembering her mother brought the all-too-familiar ache back in her chest. She reached under her armor and pulled out the small pin she had tucked away safely under her chest plate, against her heart. Holding the Embry Star in her hand, she closed her fist tightly and sighed. _If only you could see me now, Mom. I hope you're proud of me. What would you have said about Marcus? _

Dizzy's voice broke her concentration. "You alright, ma'am?"

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she tucked the pin back into place. It wasn't until then that she realized that she had tears running down her cheek. Wiping her face with the palms of her hands, she sniffled and cleared her throat. "Fine, Diz. Just reliving some old memories. Sorry."

He patted her leg gently before heading back to the wheel. "Nothin' to be sorry for. Everybody's got ghosts, now."


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10:**

**Delta One, Trilliant**

**6:00, 50 Km offshore Kashkur**

"Uh, Marcus, you hear that shit?"

Cole's voice came over the radio. Marcus had been asleep, for once, but had left his earpiece in. Before he could respond Anya poked her head into the cabin.

"You may want to get out here. I think we've been spotted."

"Stranded?" Pulling himself up, he checked over his lancer quickly, and came to the front of the boat. Dizzy had slowed way down, but the engine was still loud enough.  
"I think so. It sounded like interference, but when I cycled through the open channels, I think I found them. I can't tell if it's a boat, or from a settlement. But it definitely wasn't COG."

He scoffed. "Can't be something that doesn't even exist anymore." He rolled his neck and scanned the horizon. "Diz, anything on the radar?"

Dizzy came out from the wheelhouse, shaking his head. "Nothin' yet, but that don't mean they ain't out there. We've only got about an hour till we hit shore. We was waiting for you to get up to see…you wanna radio in and make sure there's a nice welcoming party, or just go in quiet and hope we don't get any unexpected guests?"

Baird's voice filled their ears. "Hey, rise and shine folks. We've got company. Coming up fast on our six."

"Dizzy, man the wheel. Be ready to get us the fuck out of here. Anya, Carmine, with me." Marcus stalked towards the rear deck with Anya and Carmine close behind. Lancers in hand, they all squinted towards the direction Baird had said the threat was coming from and waited in tense silence.  
Anya spoke quietly from next to him, but she didn't dare move her eyes. "Should we try to radio them? Assess the threat?"

His voice was a low rumble, still dry from fitful sleep. "If they don't radio _us_, they're a threat."

A small vessel appeared on the horizon. A rapidly growing dot speeding towards them. Marcus pressed a finger to his ear, his voice rumbling deep in his throat. "Hold your fire, but make sure you're ready to discourage them from giving us any trouble."

"Thanks, Sarge. I hadn't thought of that. I was just gonna roll out the ramp and invite them on board." If Baird was worried, his voice didn't give it away. Anya took that as a comfort considering how much closer they were to the approaching boat. Maybe they saw something she couldn't. She found herself wishing she grabbed the binoculars on the way out of the wheelhouse, but she certainly didn't intend on going for them now.

Amirale Enka was far enough away that Anya could barely make out the figures standing on the rear deck. It was hard to miss Cole, though. The incoming vessel had slowed and was now bobbing in the water a few yards from their boat, slowly closing the gap. The radio was eerily silent for far too long for comfort. Anya pressed a finger to her ear. "Baird, do you copy? What's going on over there?"

She waited for a response, staring over at Marcus. His eyes hadn't moved from the unknown intruders. "Should we turn around and go back to them?"

He shook his head once, staring hard into the distance. Carmine spoke up from her other side. "If they were in trouble, they would radio. Maybe they just recognized Cole and asked for an autograph."

She nodded hopefully. _Come on, damn it. Answer me. _"Baird, Cole, anyone receiving?"

A single shot rang out in the distance, followed by a howling scream.

Marcus growled. "Dizzy, get us over there. Now."

The engine roared to life as the boat lurched forward and turned. The spray from the ocean flew up around them as the jogged to the front of the boat. Just as they got within a reasonable sight line, Cole's voice filled their ears, barely audible over the engine.

"Whooo, didn't know that little boat could move that quick. Don't worry, baby, party's over. Just some locals who don't really know the polite way to say hello." The screaming was still going on in the background.

Dizzy slowed down, but maintained his course towards them. Anya began to speak, but Marcus cut her off. "Wanna tell me what the hell is going on over there?"

Baird's voice broke through. "Just dealing with the garbage. But hey, look! They brought us a boat."

Trilliant sputtered as Dizzy cut the engine, pulling up right alongside Enka. Marcus stepped across the deck before they even came to a complete stop.

Anya followed close behind, taking a quick survey of her surroundings out of habit. The unknown boat was now tied up to the rear deck rail. Jace was standing with his lancer aimed at three large men, all with their wrists bound behind them, lying flat on their stomachs. One of them was whimpering, and a small puddle of blood was forming under his leg. Baird looked incredibly pleased with himself, as usual, checking them over for weapons. Cole was securing a fourth man, who was putting up a struggle, but having no luck. Sam climbed down from the roof of the wheelhouse with her longshot slung over her shoulder. She spoke up first.

"Bloody idiots thought they could pull one over on us. Told us they were from Anvil Gate. Funny thing, though. According to them that settlement is gone. Odd, since we just talked to them this morning."

One of the men on the ground started streaming profanities briefly before Baird kicked him in the side. He grunted and fell silent as Sam continued.

"They told us to go ahead and follow them, and started asking where we came from and who we were. But since they're not the smartest boys, they didn't happen to see me up above. One went for his side arm and I gently convinced him that was a poor decision."

"Crazy bitch took a shot at me! She fucking shot me!" The bleeding man writhed around on the deck, trying to find a position that wasn't putting pressure on his leg.

"I grazed you. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be a dead asshole, not a whining one. Now shut it."

Baird came over to join them. "Yeah, if Granny were here we'd have four dead assholes, and no screaming ones." He looked over at Marcus and waved his hand in front of his face.

Marcus was staring at the fourth man, now planted flat on the ground with Cole kneeling on his back and Jace tying his wrists. His eyes were narrowed, and ice cold.

"Earth to Fenix…"

The fourth man snapped his head up. "Fenix?! Fucking…Fucking Marcus Fenix."

Marcus stared hard, unmoved.

"How the fuck did you manage to get out?"

Marcus clenched his jaw. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

Cole stood up and brushed his hands off on his pants leg. "Someone you know?"

"We've met." The tension in his voice was clear. He kept his eyes on the man, leaning forward like he was about to say something.

Sam leaned over to Anya and spoke softly. "Anya, you know that guy?"

The man on the ground whipped his head over to them and stared briefly before bursting with laughter. Resting his head back on the deck he shook it as his laughter turned to soft chuckles before finally dying out. Catching his breath he looked back up at Marcus and jerked his head towards Anya. "So, that's the desperate psycho? I guess I'd spend years waiting to get back between those legs, too."

Anya's jaw fell open. Before anyone could blink, Marcus cleared the gap between them and yanked the guy up by his arm. The momentum carried them back to the deck rail, and Marcus pressed his forearm to his throat, forcing him back as far as he could physically bend over the rail. Pulling his pistol from its holster, he held it to the man's chest with his free hand. All the arrogant bravado had evaporated from his expression as he gasped in pain, struggling to breathe. Marcus' voice was low and even. "You have a short memory, Campbell."

Anya came up behind him, desperately trying to find words. "Marcus, who..." her voice trailed off, her mind lost in a sea of questions. Campbell turned his head towards her, finally able to catch a breath as Marcus eased his arm back slightly.  
"So what the hell is wrong with you that you'd wait years for this asshole? Or are you just that good in the sack?"

Marcus brought the butt of his pistol up hard, and it connected with Campbell's jaw with a sickening crack. He would have crumpled to the ground if it weren't for Marcus holding him up. Grabbing his shirt with one hand, he pulled Campbell in close to his face, pressing his gun back into his chest. Baird and Cole scrambled across the deck and stood on either side of Marcus. Cole leaned in, always the level headed mediator.  
"Whoa, baby. I know the Cole Train may be missing somethin', but I don't know that you need to kill this son of a bitch to prove your point. Why not let him pick up his teeth and we can drag his sorry ass back to Hoffman and see what he wants to do with him."

Marcus' expression went blank. The mad dog fury was gone as quick as it came, and he was back to his normal, steely gaze. Ice cold and totally unreadable.

Baird leaned over and spoke quietly, just loud enough to be heard over Campbell's groans. "Hey, why waste the space? Why not toss him over with the rest of the trash? Stranded scum is Stranded scum."

Sam would have laughed at the interesting dichotomy; Baird and Cole, the devil and the angel, if she wasn't so nervous. She didn't appreciate being left out of the loop, and looking over at Anya she knew she was feeling the same way. Whoever this guy was, he knew Marcus well enough to know what to say to set him off. Maybe he wanted to die.

Campbell spit a mouthful of blood on the ground and managed to pick his head up and meet Marcus' eyes. "Yeah, fucking shoot me and get it over with. Show everyone else just what kind of a bastard you really are."

"Oh, I know what kind of bastard I am."

"You never minded costing good men their lives, so why worry about 'just another stranded'? "

Marcus scoffed, and an eerily calm look came over him. He let go of Campbell, who had to struggle to keep himself upright, using the full support of the rail behind him. Returning his pistol to the holster he looked over at Cole. "Yeah, tie him off to the rail. We'll let Hoffman deal with him. Maybe he can lock his ass up. I'm sure he's got something that functions as a prison there." He spared a meaningful glance at Campbell, whose eyes were full of hatred, and turned towards the Trilliant. He motioned for Carmine to come over, and started to hoist up the wounded prisoner, who immediately yelped in pain and started shuddering, trying to hold his injured leg up and not fall over. Passing him off to Carmine, he grabbed Campbell by the arm and pushed him towards the deck of the neighboring boat. "Watch it, now. Wouldn't want you drowning before we get you back to base." Campbell started to speak but Marcus shoved him over and he fell with a thud onto the deck.

Anya crossed over behind him. "You sure you want him on the boat with us? Why not leave him with Baird and Cole?" She tried not to sound too concerned, but her face betrayed her.  
"I don't want him over there running his mouth."

Carmine had secured the wounded man to the back rail and came back for Campbell. "Don't know how fast his mouth can run, Sarge. You got him pretty good." Campbell spit again.  
"Not good enough. Keep him quiet. Tape his mouth shut if you have to." Carmine nodded and pulled Campbell towards the other man who was quietly whimpering like a wounded animal.

Anya came up close and spoke quietly. "You going to tell me who that is?"  
"Prison." He grunted. His tone didn't invite further questions, but she pressed a little harder.  
"That doesn't really tell me much, Marcus."  
He rolled his neck and stared over at her briefly before returning his eyes to Campbell. "Prison _warder_. We didn't really get along, you could say."

Grabbing his elbow, she tugged him gently towards the front of the boat, out of the eye line of everyone else. Once they were clear, she turned to face him. "Look, I know you're never going to tell me what the hell happened to you in there, and I've accepted that. But you could at least tell me why you were ready to shoot him."

"He was running his mouth."

"You mean about me? So what. It's not the first time it's happened." She stared up at him, silently begging him to explain.

"Well, it's not the first time I tried to persuade someone not to, either."

She shook her head and chuckled, which earned a raised eyebrow from him. "You're not doing a good job of hiding what's going on between us if you fly off the handle when a random stranger makes a comment."

His jaw twitched slightly and he stepped closer, towering over her. "Who's trying to hide anything? And he's not a random stranger. We have history. He knew what he was getting into."

She raised her hand and pressed it to his cheek, brushing against the jagged scar. "He have anything to do with this?"

His whole body tensed up as he closed his eyes and turned his head slightly away. It was all the answer she needed, and she knew it was all he would give her. Sighing heavily she dropped her hand to his chest and patted his armor. "Ok. Well, then maybe you _should _have shot him."

Baird shouted from the rear deck of the Enka. "Uh, when you ladies are done discussing what color to paint your nails, you wanna come join us?"

Campbell and the wounded man were tied off to the deck rail, and Carmine and Jace were helping Cole secure the tow line from the small speedboat they had showed up on. Baird was leaning against the rail, deliberately trying to look impatient.

Marcus and Anya stood across the gap between the boats as Carmine finished tying the line and hopped over to join them. Baird tossed something to Marcus. "Short range radios. Handhelds." He jerked his head towards the men tied off to the rear rail of the Enka. "Want me to use my charismatic good nature to find out exactly where they're from?"

Marcus shook his head. "No point. We're still on course for Anvil. We keep going, and when we get there we can see what Hoffman wants to do with them."

Sam spoke up from behind Baird warily. "Think we ought to radio in and let them know we were being followed? I wouldn't fancy any surprises waiting for us at the docks."

"You think these radios were picking up our transmissions from yesterday?" Marcus turned the handheld radio over in his hand before passing it back to Baird.

"Gee, I don't know. Why don't I ask them?" Baird walked over to the smaller of the two men bound on board his boat. He couldn't have been more than twenty five, and looked like he'd had a rough life. His light blonde hair was long and unkempt, tucked under a bandana that had slid out of place during the struggle. He now stared up at them with wild eyes, like an animal caught in a trap. He probably would have chewed his own arm off if he thought it would get him out of there. Nudging his leg with his foot, Baird snapped his fingers in the guy's face. "Hey, jackass, how did you know where we were?" His eyes darted back and forth between them, and finally to the man tied next to him, who simply shook his head. Baird snapped at him again. "Don't look at him, look at me dickhead. How did you know?" He leaned down towards him, lowering his voice. "You know we're gonna find out anyway. You may as well just answer. Trust me, you'd rather answer to me than to someone where we're goin'. Some of those folks don't really like your kind."

That quick, the man turned towards him and brought his forehead forward hard, catching Baird right in the chin. "You mother…" Baird drew his fist back just as Cole caught him by the arm.  
"Alright, now. Come on, Damon. Let him stew for a while. I'm sure boomer lady will get all the information you want from him, and she'll enjoy it. It'll be the best present we ever gave her."  
Baird refused to give the guy credit for injuring him, and resisted the urge to rub his jaw. Instead he just nodded at Cole and turned to Jace. "I like Fenix's idea; tape their mouths shut. Don't need them deciding which story to tell while we make it the rest of the way."

Returning to the wheelhouse, Baird pressed his finger to his ear. "Baird to Anvil Gate."

The radio hummed in his ear briefly before a voice broke through. "Anvil Gate, here. Go ahead Corporal." It was the same voice from yesterday morning. Before Baird could continue, Marcus' voice rasped in his ear. "This is Sergeant Fenix. Is the Colonel around? We've got some unexpected passengers with us." Baird glared out at him through the windshield. If Marcus noticed, he didn't seem to care.

"Sorry, Sergeant. He just went down to the docks. Seems there was a bit of trouble this morning, as usual. Mataki's just down the hall. Want me to call her?"  
"Yeah, that'll do. Thanks."

Baird poked his head out of the door. "Wanna stop doing that? I'm not a complete idiot. I would have made sure they weren't under siege or anything, too."  
Marcus just shrugged.

The radio came back to life a few moments later. "Mataki here. Everything alright?"

Sam felt instantly comforted. It was like getting a phone call from your mother after being away for months.

Marcus looked up to Baird and gave him a look that was simply a silent _go on._

Pressing his finger to his ear again, he restarted the boat engine with his free hand. "Hey, granny. Glad to see you still know how to work one of these things." He paused, somehow less satisfied by the jab when he couldn't see her response. "Anyhow, we've got some company you may be interested in. Stranded boys. Tried to tell us that you folks were gone from Anvil Gate, and asked us to follow them."

"Good to know I taught you better than to go with strange men, blondie."

"They didn't have any good candy." Looking towards Dizzy he motioned for him to turn around and carry on. "So, we're bringing them along. But seeing as Stranded are like dogs, traveling in packs and all that, we figured it'd be best if we had some friendly help at the docks when we get there."

Bernie laughed in his ear. "Don't go comparing them to dogs, now. You'll hurt Mac's feelings. How long till you land? I'll call Vic back and we'll be down to meet you."

"About an hour, give or take." Dizzy sped past him, waving his hat with a ridiculous grin on his face. "The way Dizzy's driving, better make it less. Baird out."

* * *

**Author's note: **

First off, I just want to say _thank you_ so much to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/sending messages. It's fantastic to hear what everyone thinks of the story so far. As of right now (8/22/12) I have about 20 chapters completed. I've been posting on Tuesdays and Thursdays to give myself a little breathing room so if I have to miss a day of writing I'm not stressing, or rushing anything.

To address a comment I received about the Imulsion problem; I meant to post this with the last chapter and I forgot. By the time I realized I forgot I didn't want to go back and add it in and risk it being missed, so I figured I'd just tack it on to the end of this chapter. Before I started this project, I did a lot of 'research'. I read all the books, all the comics, and replayed all three games. I took notes. It was kind of sad in a really awesome way. I tried really hard to make sure I hadn't missed anything, or made any canon errors. So when I read the comment about the Imulsion I was legitimately concerned. I thought for sure I had read into it and found that the imulsion would have been destroyed by the counter-measure. I frantically started looking into it again, and kind of reaffirmed what I had assumed. According to the Gearspedia ( wiki/Imulsion) the Imuslion would have been "wiped from the face of Sera- obliterating the Lambent, the Locust and [Adam Fenix]." After reading that I was wondering if I'd have to scrap the entire project and start over because they'd have NO fuel, not even a reserve. But after going back to the cinematic at the end of the last game, you can clearly see a bunch of Ravens landing after the weapon had been deployed. If all traces of ANY Imulsion were gone, those Ravens would have fallen out of the sky like stones. So I took a little bit of dramatic license and operated under the premise that any refined Imulsion would still be usable, as the refining process could, theoretically, have killed the parasitic organisms inside the fuel itself.

Sorry that was a terribly long explanation. I just want to do the very best I can to explain why I do things the way I do if it seems that it should be a different way.

And as I said before, thank you. Thank you all for being awesome and keeping up with this story. I hope I never let anyone down :-)


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11: **

It took all of her self-control not to jump from the boat and run down the pier to meet the waiting group, but somehow Sam managed to just smile and wave as she enjoyed the immense relief flooding her mind. Hoffman and Bernie stood at the head of a small crowd, looking incredibly pleased despite the current issues with the Stranded. A handful of other gears filled out the crowd, along with Dizzy's girls who were standing behind Bernie, beaming at the sight of their dad behind the wheel. Dizzy waved happily as he slowed the boat and pulled into the dock.

It seemed like no one could get clear of the boat fast enough. The prisoners could wait. They weren't going to ruin the reunion.

Hoffman and Bernie strode to the end of the dock to meet them. Marcus was at the head of the line, with Anya close behind. Everyone fell in; the men shaking hands, the women hugging. Maralin and Teresa bolted for Dizzy as soon as he cleared the boat, weaving between the other gears and throwing themselves into his arms. Bernie caught Baird in a playful headlock, rubbing his head with her free hand before Cole wrapped her into a nearly suffocating hug. The pleasant chatter continued for a few minutes before Bernie glanced back towards the boats. She came up next to Marcus and elbowed him in the side gently, interrupting whatever he and Hoffman were discussing. "Hey, didn't anyone wake Dom and tell him you were landing?"

Silence fell over the dock. Everyone who had just come in was suddenly incapable of meeting her eyes.

Her face fell. _Oh no. No, not Dom, too. _"Marcus, sweetheart…" her voice trailed off. She knew the answer before she even managed the question, but there was a part of her that said if she never asked, he'd never have to confirm her fears.

Marcus took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking his head. For a brief moment she saw the Marcus of Aspho Point standing in front of her clutching his dead brother's remains. It was frightening how history had repeated itself and she almost couldn't bear the thought of his pain. She reached out to hug him, whether he wanted it or not. He tensed, but allowed it, patting her on the shoulder with his hand. She felt her eyes brimming as she pulled away, silently willing herself to keep it together. She didn't want to embarrass him, or herself, by holding on any longer or turning into a sobbing mess in front of everyone. Hoffman came up behind her, wrapping his arm around her back.

"Fenix, I don't know what to say." Hoffman's voice nearly broke, but he managed to maintain it. The unusual hint of vulnerability made the entire situation that much more difficult. He made deliberate eye contact, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry, Marcus."

Bernie couldn't stand to watch him anymore. Her chest felt tight. She forced herself to take a deep breath as her eyes fell to the ground. It wasn't that she wasn't used to the grief, or even the fact that this hit so close to home. It was simply that she had finally thought the war was over, and here she stood again feeling like a grieving mother.

She looked to the others who were still mostly avoiding her eyes. Anya was chewing fretfully on her lower lip, keeping her eyes closed. Sam's eyes glistened and tears streamed down her cheek as she fought to keep herself from unraveling. Baird had come up behind her and put his arm around her shoulder and whispered something to her Bernie couldn't hear. She made a note to ask her about that later. The rest of the men had the same shared look of dismal anger.

Hearing Marcus speak snapped her attention back to the moment. "Nothing to say, sir. He died so we could win the war, and that's what we did."

"That we did." Hoffman said quietly.  
Marcus managed to catch Bernie's eye. "You alright?"

She scoffed. "You're asking me?" She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffed. "I will be. I'll have myself a good cry later, alone, and work it out. You gonna tell me you're fine?"  
"I'm managing." He said. Anya had come up behind him and rested her hand against his lower back. He wouldn't have felt it through the armor, but it was obvious he knew she was there.

"Can I ask…I mean, how did he…" Bernie visibly struggled for words. She dropped her eyes to the ground, shaking her head sadly.  
"We got overrun in Mercy." Marcus swallowed hard and his eyes became unfocused. He was staring past her, not at her. "We wouldn't have made it out without him. He took the truck…blew a fuel tank." He stopped abruptly. Bernie waited, but that seemed to be as much as he was willing to say.

That was Dom, alright. The name Santiago seemed to be synonymous with 'sacrifice'. There was a sickening thread running through the family name. It seemed there was no escape from the tragedy. If Tai were around, he'd have some profound thing to say about the nature of destiny. Instead there was just a sad, lingering silence. There were no words to say. No comfort to be given.

In another time there would be a ceremony to commemorate his sacrifice. Medals to be given, media coverage. Not that there was any family left to accept on his behalf. _They'd have sent Marcus up there, the poor sod._ Maybe it was better this way. No public grieving, and no empty words of comfort from strangers.

Hoffman cleared his throat. "Damn shame."

Marcus just nodded once. His focus returned, and he clenched his jaw. There was a finality in the movement. The walls had slammed down again and the subject was clearly closed, at least for now. No amount of discussion would do anyone any good, and there was no sense in rubbing salt in the wound. They allowed the silence to hang for a few moments, giving everyone time to compose themselves.

Bernie took it upon herself to change the subject, much to the appreciation of everyone else. "So, prisoners then? Where the hell did they come from? Do we know who they even are?"

Baird had pulled away from Sam and turned back to the boat. "Well, we asked them. But they weren't feeling particularly chatty." He glanced back to Bernie. "Figured maybe you'd get some answers from them, seeing how persuasive you are with the stranded."

Hoffman followed close behind Baird, but Marcus came up behind him and spoke gruffly. "We know who one of them is." Hoffman kept his head turned slightly to the side so Marcus could keep his voice low. "Well, I know. His son was a Gear. Got killed a few years ago. I can't see him being real forgiving of anyone in armor."

"Do I want to ask how you know him?"

"He was a warder at the prison."

There weren't many things in his life that still rubbed a raw nerve, but that was one of them. It was like a punch to the gut that he could never be ready for. Putting Marcus in prison was right up there with the siege at Anvil Gate on the list of times in his life he wished he could have acted differently. Hoffman stopped abruptly, and Marcus nearly plowed right into him. Spinning to face him, he stared into his eyes, wishing that just for once he could tell what the hell he was actually thinking. Marcus, ever unreadable, just gestured for him to keep walking. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Baird all but tapping his foot on the dock, waiting for them to come help him unload the men. Keeping his eyes on Baird, he did his best to keep his guilt from coming through his voice. "Anything I need to know about him?"

It was an odd feeling. The guilt from locking Marcus away and leaving him still hung heavily in the back of his brain like a headache that just wouldn't go away. But the instinctive, almost fatherly obligation to protect his Gears made him bristle at the thought of any man giving any of them a hard time. They were _his_ men. Just because he had put Marcus in prison didn't necessarily mean he deserved to catch any shit from anyone. There was this raw, primal need to get his hands on the guard that most likely made Marcus' life hell for years, but he couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't have done that in the first place if he hadn't made sure Marcus was brought up on charges in the first place. So much for having settled this. It seemed no matter what, there was no way to keep old wounds from being ripped open. And seeing Marcus roll right over a mention of the prison like it hadn't even happened just made it harder to swallow the contrition.

Marcus just shrugged. "Nothing other than what I told you." He gestured again for him to go on, and Hoffman finally started moving again. Baird had pulled the two men off of the Enka and had them sitting on the dock, hands still bound behind their backs. He pulled Campbell up and shoved him towards the dock.  
"Can I get some help with this one? He can't even stand up without whining." Hoisting up the wounded earned a fresh round of groans and whimpers as he pulled him over to the dock.

Hoffman pulled the two men from the Enka up to stand before looking over Campbell and the other man that Baird had pushed onto the pier. Jerking his head towards them, he looked to Marcus. "So, which one do you know? The one that got punched in the jaw, or the one that got shot?"

"I got a funny way of greeting old friends." Marcus said.

"Byrne shot this one," Baird said, pulling the wounded man down the dock. He left Campbell for Marcus, and Hoffman wasn't sure if it was a kind or cruel gesture. "He went for his pistol and, well, you know how Kashkuri women get around angry men with guns."

"Angrier." Hoffman smiled fondly. There was a good bit of both of her parents in her. _You'd be proud of her, Sam. I know you would._

Baird passed his prisoner off to Cole when they reached the end of the dock. "Here, get them loaded into the truck. I almost forgot something." He jogged back down the dock towards the boats.

"What's he gone after?" Bernie opened the back gate of the packhorse, stepping aside so they could load the stranded up.  
"Probably stripping something vital out of that boat so no one can make off with it." Cole hoisted the wounded man in first, who had run out of energy to fight but was still groaning. "Think he needs to see a medic?"  
"Right, it'll be my first priority when we get back." Bernie resisted the urge to shove the guy in harder, just for good measure. Marcus came up to load the next guy, and Bernie eyed his busted jaw. "Give you a hard time?"  
"Something like that."  
The pure hatred in the man's eyes when he stared back at Marcus told her there was more to the story, but her better judgment told her not to ask. At least not right now. But then, on the list of questions she had, that one seemed to fall pretty low on the list.

Hoffman turned to help Marcus, but before he could even offer he had picked Campbell up and all but tossed him onto the flatbed.

"Come on, Jack." Baird said. Hoffman turned to see him coming down the dock followed by the bot hovering along behind him.

"Well I'll be a son of a bitch…You fixed it?"

"Of course." Baird tried to shrug it off, but there was no denying the pride that practically radiated from him. "Even taught him so new tricks."

"By 'new tricks', he means he put a bloody taser on it." Sam had come over to join them. "I wonder if we could have fitted my bike with something fun like that." She said wistfully.

"Hey, I could have fixed that too if it hadn't sunk with Sovreign. I'm a genius, not a miracle worker." Baird glanced over to Bernie, who had her finger pressed to her ear, her eyes distant. Nudging Hoffman he pointed over to her. Before he could even look, Bernie's focus returned, and she jogged over to them.

"Vic, change your comm channel. We've got trouble."

Everyone instinctively starting cycling until the radio chatter filled their ears. A woman's voice came over, out of breath and hurried. "We need case-evac now, we've got a gear down."  
"Control here, we need your location." None of them recognized the voice. Anya assumed Hoffman had started using some of the civvies to run the radios here.

Anya looked at Bernie. "Was that Alex?" Bernie nodded and headed to an empty packhorse, not waiting for the radio response that came a moment later.  
"I don't fucking know my location. Shit." There was a rattle of gunfire in the background. "We got split up and ambushed. We bolted, but Rossi was hit. He's down, damnit. Just get someone to the north side of the river, near the road to Mercy. I can get him there, I think."

Hoffman stood outside of the driver's door, with an impatient Bernie readying her lancer in the passenger seat. "Alright; Diz, you take your girls and get back to base then help Stratton with the prisoners. Just find somewhere to stow 'em. Carmine, you're driving the other pack. Stroud and Fenix, with me. The rest of you with Carmine. We'll take the quicker route. Won't be a smooth ride, but we'll get there quicker than anyone leaving base." Everyone scrambled into the trucks and steadied themselves as the trucks built up speed. Dizzy broke right at the road, and Hoffman turned left, building up speed. His voice came over the radio. "Alright, hold onto your asses."

The road fell behind them, and everyone on the flatbeds clung to the rails with one hand, holding their rifles firmly in the other. The distant gunfire grew closer as they bounced over the trail. Bernie spoke over the radio, doing the best she could to hide her anger and worry. "Alex, we're on our way. Can you make it to the bridge?"

There was a brief crackle of static before she replied. "I think so." She sounded out of breath, and they could hear someone groaning in the background. A muffled explosion came from the direction of the gunfire.

"Fuck, was that a grenade?" Sam craned her neck, looking off into the woods ahead of them. Baird yanked her back down.  
"You wanna lose your head to a fucking tree?"

Before she could protest, Alex came back in their ears. "Fucking frag grenade. Missed us, thankfully. Still en route to the bridge, but don't piss around. Rossi needs a medic. Bad." The radio went silent.

Marcus growled over the radio, saving him from trying to shout over the sounds of branches banging against the sides of the trucks. "How long?"

"Five minutes, hopefully. We'll hit the road and cross over. Vic can drive us over so we can get their attention. Blondie, you guys go on foot and get them the hell out of there." Bernie sounded considerably more shaken. "Cut across the road and cross the river. It's low this time of year, so you should be able to walk it. Just watch your footing. If she gets where she said she could, she should be right on the other side of the river."

As they came up on the bridge, Bernie waved her hand out to signal where to break off as Hoffman turned the packhorse back onto solid road. Cole was off before the vehicle even came to a complete stop, and Baird and Sam fell in close behind, with Carmine bringing up the rear as they moved off of the pavement into the trees. The gunfire had stopped, and other than the steady sound of the heavy boots on the forest floor, there was an unsettling silence.

Cole held up his hand, signaling everyone to stop. "Think we oughta split up? I mean, we don't know where these folks are shooting from. I think we're a pretty loud target all together."

Before anyone could respond, another burst of gunfire came from straight ahead of them. They broke into a run straight into it, and Sam switched her radio to transmit hands free. "Anyone wanna claim that noise?"

Marcus responded first. "Not us, but we've got eyes on 'em. North side of the river, heading west. Looks like they're falling back, but we're not taking any chances. Let us know as soon as you've got Rossi and Brand clear."

The river came into sight quickly, and there was a bright splash of red on the opposite side. Alex Brand was straddling someone, pressing down on their chest with one hand and leveling her pistol towards the source of the noise. As they closed in she returned her gun to the holster and pressed her other hand down.

The first thing Sam noticed was the blood. She'd seen plenty of wounded gears, but there was something so raw and panic inducing about the sight of that much blood. Alex's hands were covered in it, and it stained the sleeves poking out of her armor. Rossi was conscious, but she wasn't sure how. The men took up defensive positions as Sam ran and slid into the space next to Alex, trying to work out where exactly Rossi had been hit. "Oh, fuck…" Her voice was a whisper. There were scattered small holes in his arm, but that wasn't where the blood was coming from. Alex had her hands pressed firmly to a soaked gauze pad against his upper chest. How the bullet had missed his heart was a miracle. "Why wasn't he wearing his armor?" Sam instantly regretted asking.

Rossi coughed a sick wet sound before mumbling a reply. "Grubs are dead." He coughed again before gasping in pain. "Armor sucks."

Sam had never seen Alex afraid, but for a brief moment her expression was pure fear. She pressed harder. "Shut up, you stupid asshole. Just stop talking." She looked over to Baird and Cole. "Come on, guys. We've got to get him the fuck out of here." The moment passed and she had regained her typical demeanor, all attitude and strength. "Where's the truck?"

Cole kept his eyes on the woods. "Across the river. Can we move him?"  
Baird glanced over his shoulder at Rossi. "I don't think we can _not_ move him. We sure as shit can't stitch him up here."

Anya came over the radio. "If you can, now's your chance. We've backed them up off the river. You should have a clear shot to get them pulled out."

Baird and Cole clipped their rifles onto their backs and came over to where Rossi was laying. "Alright, you guys are gonna have to give us cover fire if we need it. We can't all carry him." Baird looked down at Rossi, trying to work out the best way to carry him. _No stretcher. Fan-friggin-tastic. _"This isn't gonna be comfy, but it's hurt, or dead, so if I were you, I think I'd choose hurt."

Rossi grit his teeth and growled as they hoisted him up. Alex stayed next to him, pressing the wound dressing. She clung to him, walking at an awkward angle trying to maintain pressure.

Sam and Carmine darted ahead, scanning the trees on either side and ahead. Sam shouted back over her shoulder. "Not far, Rossi. You hang in there."

It seemed like an eternity before they reached the truck again. Cole and Baird managed to slide Rossi onto the flatbed with minimal jostling, but he was looking much worse for wear after the trek through the woods. Alex somehow managed to slide onto him again, keeping her hands over the worst of the wounds. Sam was about to climb in behind her before something caught her eyes off in the woods. A small metallic glint caught the sun in a clearing, then again ten feet to the left. Someone was running through the trees with a gun. Instinct took over, and before her mind caught up her legs were carrying her at full speed towards the tree line. She heard Baird yell from behind her.  
"Byrne, what the fuck are you doing?"  
"Saw something." She huffed into her radio. "Gun, something. Could be nothing. Take Rossi back, I'll catch a lift with the others."  
"Like fuck you will. Get back here," he shot back.  
"I'm not losing this guy. Just go already."

"Fucking hell." Baird mumbled. He turned to Carmine, jerking his head towards the truck. "Get them back to base, now." Carmine nodded and climbed in, turning the truck to barrel down the road towards the fort. "Cole, come on. Time to go hunting, I guess."  
"What's going on over there, Baird?" Marcus rasped in his earpiece.  
"Byrne went chasing after someone. We're following. Rossi and Brand are clear."  
"We're coming your way, then. We lost the group we were after when they scattered. Chances are she spotted one of them."  
"Better tell us where you're coming from before she takes a shot at one of you instead."

Bernie came back. "If she mistakes one of us for a Stranded, I'll throttle her."

Baird slowed to a stop, scanning the woods. _Fuck, which way?_ A burst of gunfire shattered the silence. He bolted into the direction it came from, with Cole hot on his heels.

"There's two." Sam breathed into the radio. "I crossed over the river, but I lost one. The other…" her voice trailed off for a moment as she got her bearings. "The other one is dead ahead. East side of the river."  
"We're coming in from the West. Hopefully we'll drive them back your way." It was Anya, this time. Always cool under pressure. Baird wondered if she ever lost her shit on the radio.

Just then he caught movement from the corner of his eye. _West, right? If the road is back that way, it's west. _He caught himself before commenting on his hatred for forests. "Contact. West side of the river. Think he's heading your way, Fenix."  
"Good. I'll ruin his day." Marcus answered.  
"Where did he go?!" That was Cole.  
"I think he went north, across the river." Anya again.  
"On it." Cole replied.

The radio chatter was overlapping and even with just the few of them on foot, it was hard to keep up with the voices and where everyone was.

Baird was running full speed towards the river. If he could just make it to the edge of the woods, he'd have a better chance of regaining a visual. He could still hear Cole somewhere off to his right, making a hell of a lot of noise as he ran.

Sam broke through the chaos. "I've got the bastard. About 100 yards out. Moving in to get a better shot. Dumb asshole is just standing there…"

Marcus' gruff voice boomed in his ear. "Damn it Sam, stay put. We still haven't found his buddy. Wait for someone to have your back."  
"I've got this. If he hears you elephants coming, he'll bolt."

"Don't kill him, damnit. Better if we bring him back alive."  
"After what they did to Rossi, he'd be lucky if I killed him," she said sourly.  
Baird willed his legs to move faster. "Sam, just wait a minute. "

A single shot rang out, and the radio went dead silent for five long, excruciating seconds. Sam's voice finally came back in, sounding incredibly pissed. "Missed him. You noisy buggers. He bolted when he heard-"

A bloodcurdling scream filled everyone's ear s before the radio went silent again.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12:**

"Sam?! Sam, come the fuck on. Answer me!" Baird sounded as close to frantic as he ever had.

Anya's voice came over the radio. "I think she switched to receive only. If she had the foresight to do that, I think she's going to be ok."

"Yeah, or she's totally fucked and doesn't want us coming after her. Sam, come on!" Still running, the river bed finally came into view. Baird plowed through the water and onto the other side, ducking into cover and trying to work out where she may have headed.

Heavy breathing broke his thoughts as Sam spoke quietly. "I'm alright, just hit. I'm down."  
"Hit with what, and where the hell are you?" Marcus cut in.

A few long moments passed before a response came. "Bastard got me with a fucking crossbow." It was clear she was struggling to maintain an even tone.

Baird swallowed hard, trying to maintain his own level of calm. "Tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you."  
"Baird, don't be stupid." Marcus was getting frustrated, and it showed. "We don't know how many other people are out here, and they know these woods better than we do. Just slow the fuck down and wait for back up."

"You want me to leave her alone so they can find her? Fuck that." Baird turned north and broke into a run along the riverbed, slowing down to search for any sign of a trail. _Where's Bernie's mutt when you need him?_ He could hear splashing, and he stopped cold.

Cole's voice boomed in his ear. "On my way, baby. I'm right behind you. Keep going. I got your back."  
Sam's voice came back as a whisper this time. "I can hear you, I think. But I think my new friend is on his way to finish what he started."

"Can you move? Do you have any cover?" The water splashed in the background as Marcus spoke. It seemed everyone was closing in.

A sharp gasp came over the radio, followed by shuffling leaves. "No, fuck it. I'm stuck. I can't move my damn arm."  
"Tell me it's not your shooting arm." Baird slid into cover, peering out to look for the shooter.  
"You want me to answer that?" Sam's voice was becoming increasingly strained.

A figure was standing ahead, moving swiftly between the trees. Baird lined up his shot, but before he could squeeze the trigger a loud rustling spooked whoever it was and they bolted.  
"Son of a bitch, he's on the run!" Baird took off after him, but came to an abrupt halt when he spotted Sam. She was leaning up against a tree trunk, with a bolt sticking out of what looked like her neck. "Oh, shit…Sam?" He ran over and slid down next to her. "You alright?"  
"Fan-bloody-tastic. Never better." She tried to sit up higher and winced. "Don't worry about me, go get the bastard."  
Cole came up behind him and Baird pointed in the direction the guy ran. "That way," he said without moving his eyes off of her. Cole didn't even hesitate before charging off into the woods.

"Anyone got eyes on Byrne yet?" Marcus must have been nearby. There was an echo from the earpiece and somewhere off to his left.  
"I got her, but she doesn't look so good."  
"Speak for yourself." Sam had managed to get her pistol into her left hand, and she dropped it next to her leg. "It missed everything vital, but I think it hit my trap. I can't move my bloody arm up."  
Marcus jogged into view, followed closely by Anya.

Cole came over the radio. "Sorry folks, think I lost him. Want me to pack it in?"  
Marcus eyed Sam warily before responding. "Yeah, come on back, Gus. No sense chasing them now. We'll just pay them a visit at home. Hoffman, Mataki, head back to the truck. We're gonna need it."  
"Sam alright?" Bernie's boots crunched over leaves and gravel in the background.  
"She'll be fine. Fenix out."

Anya had come up next to Sam and was sitting back on her heels, surveying the damage. "You got lucky."  
"I feel lucky."  
"No, I mean it went all the way through. So, we won't have to pull the arrowhead back out. But.." She went quiet and looked fretfully to Marcus.  
"Oh, just tell me."  
"If you want to be a miserable wreck with a useless arm on the hike back, we can leave it for the doc. But, the best thing to do at this point is cut the tail off and pull it through."  
Sam raised an eyebrow at her and tried to lean forward, growling under her breath. "And I can imagine that will feel great."

Cole returned, still scanning the tree line before he turned towards the group of them clustered around Sam. "Shoot, Sam. Anybody ever teach you not to go runnin' after crazy folks with weapons on your own?"  
Anya waved Cole over. "We're gonna need your help here, Cole." She pulled Sam up to sit straight, earning another low growl. She looked to Baird. "You got anything on you to cut the end of this off?"  
He held out his lancer.  
"Anything other than a chainsaw?"  
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of wire cutters. Handing them over to Anya he looked down at Sam. "So, you're just going to rip that through her back?"  
Sam groaned again.  
"Not helpful, Baird. But basically, yes. Cole, I need you to hold her shoulder still. Marcus, you too."

Cole leaned down and gripped her left shoulder in his hand. "Promise not to hold this against me, baby."  
"What, you don't think it will take three huge men to hold her down?" Baird's agitation was growing.  
"No. You need to pull it out."  
Baird turned his head slowly, staring at Anya with wide eyes as she snipped the feathered end of the bolt off. "Come again?"  
"I'm worried I won't be able to pull it clear in one shot, and I don't really think she'd want to deal with that twice."  
"Let's all keep talking like I'm not here. Please." Sam said.  
"Everyone just shut the hell up for a second." He sighed heavily before looking down at Sam. "Your call, Sam."

She dropped her head against Cole's arm. She mumbled quietly, keeping her head down. "Do it."

Marcus nodded and knelt next to her, finding a grip on her armor on her right side.

Baird scoffed. "So now we're field medics? Awesome." He moved in behind Sam and wrapped his hand around the arrowhead. "Am I counting this down?"  
"Just fucking get it over with."  
Anya pulled a roll of gauze from her side pocket. "Want this to bite on?"  
"Nah, just get on with it."  
Anya looked at Baird and nodded. "Alright…three…two…one…Pull."

He pulled it clear on the first shot. Sam gritted her teeth and managed to keep from screaming, but a low animal sound rumbled in her throat. Anya pressed the gauze to the open wound and glanced over at Baird. "You did good, Baird." Pulling some medical tape from her pocket, she tore a piece off with her teeth and pressed it down firmly before repeating the process on the exit wound.  
"Of course I did." The blatant arrogance did little to mask the genuine concern in his eyes, but Anya thought better of pointing it out. "You ready to move, Byrne? Or you want to wait and see if he comes back?"  
Sam opened and closed her fist gingerly and winced, but managed to grip her pistol. "Let him come back. I've got a round just for him."

Baird wrapped his arm behind her, pulling her left arm around his shoulder. "Come on, up you go." Cole eyed him knowingly, but he just shot an icy stare back. _Not now, Cole. _"Can you walk?"  
"I didn't get shot in the leg."  
"Don't be a smart ass. Do you need my help or not?"

She patted him on the arm before leaning away, testing her balance. "I think I'm alright. Didn't lose much blood. Anyone up for chasing the one that buggered of?"

"No way. You're going back to base to get that looked at." Marcus leveled his eyes at her, almost daring her to protest.  
"I'm fine. Really."  
"You got shot."

"With a crossbow. In the shoulder."

"No argument. You could have permanent muscle damage. You wanna fire that longshot again? If you want to be on the frontline, you need to be able to fire a weapon, and if that muscle is fucked, you're gonna be stuck behind a desk."

He struck a nerve and he knew it. She glared at him, but gave up.

"We'll all head back." Cole took up the lead, and Anya fell in behind him. "Check on Rossi, get some rest, and figure out what kind of hell we want to rain down on those sons of bitches tomorrow. But for now, I just want a hot meal and a place to sit down."

Anya pressed her finger to her ear, keeping her lancer readied. "Colonel? We're heading back to the road. Are you back at the truck?"

The radio buzzed briefly. "How's Byrne?" Hoffman sounded angrier than normal. Kind of like a father if his daughter's date called in to say they got in a car accident.

"She's alright. She'll need to see the doc, but she'll be just fine." Anya said.

"Damn glad to hear it, lieutenant. We've got the truck ready. Just waiting for passengers."

"Any word from Rossi?"

There was a long silence. "It doesn't look good, but we've got a hell of a medical staff."  
"Hope they got him in time. See you in five. Stroud out."

The walk back to the truck was slow going. Everyone was on edge. There were no rumbles from stalks or emergence holes to listen for. No giant, clumsy drones or boomers making excessive racket, hissing '_humans'_. There was still a very real, very identifiable enemy out there, but it was significantly more difficult to spot. After what felt like an eternity of walking, the road finally came into sight. Hoffman was leaning against the driver side door, and Bernie was perched on the flatbed staring down the scope of her rifle down the road to the west. She heard them coming and hopped down, slinging the rifle over her shoulder. Both of them came forward to meet everyone emerging from the trees.

"You're a sorry sight, Byrne." Hoffman said.  
At some point during the trek, she had taken to leaning on Baird again. She immediately stood up, returning her pistol to the holster gingerly. "You sure know how to make a lady feel special, sir."

Bernie came up and patted her arm gently. "Don't let Vic hurt your feelings. He's only a grumpy old bastard to the ones he really cares about. May I?" She peeled the tape and gauze away from the front of her collarbone and wrinkled her nose up. "Well, it's not pretty, and it'll leave a hell of a scar, but you'll live." She pressed it back down, and Sam hissed through her teeth. "Still need a medic, though."  
"So I'm told." Sam started to turn and glare at Marcus, but stopped when a searing pain shot down her back.

Hoffman patted the side of the truck loudly before climbing into the driver's seat. "Come on, ladies. Mount up. We're heading in."

Marcus climbed into the back of the flatbed, holding a hand out to pull Anya up. Sam eyed the truck dubiously before walking up, trying to work out exactly how she was going to climb up gracefully. She weighed her options, determining the way that would preserve the most dignity before she realized that wasn't really going to happen.

Sighing with defeat, she turned to Baird and Cole. "Help?"

Cole climbed up ahead of her, ready to pull her up by her good arm. Before she could reach up to him, Baird came up behind her and spoke quietly in her ear, keeping his head turned to the side so no one could see or hear him. "Don't even think about arguing with me." He hooked his arm under the back of her legs and wrapped the other around her back, hoisting her up into the truck. Just as he let her go, he spotted Bernie eyeing him with an amused grin. _Oh, fuck me. I'm never gonna hear the end of it now._ He opened his mouth to say something, but she slid into the passenger seat before he could. Climbing into the back he took a place between Cole and Sam and rested his head against the side rails. Marcus patted the roof of the cab twice, and the engine roared to life. The packhorse stared bouncing along the pavement, which was in desperate need of patching, towards the fort looming on the top of the mountain in the distance.

* * *

Rolling into Anvil Gate felt like being on a parade float. The civilians and gears that had settled there knew they were on their way, and they had lined up on either side of the entry road. They broke into applause as the packhorse came to a stop. It carried on as everyone dismounted before slowly fading out. Lewis Gavriel came forward to shake everyone's hand and express his gratitude as the rest of the civilians started to scatter, offering welcomes and thanks as they passed by. Sam managed to climb out of the flatbed on her own and came to join the other clustered around Gavriel.

He eyed her curiously. "War wounds, Ms. Byrne?"

"Something like that."

"The doctor's still in with Sergeant Rossi, but there are a few nurses that should be free. Remember where the medical bay is?"

"Yeah, and we need to check in on Rossi anyhow." Sam said.

Hoffman had come up behind them. "Go get that shoulder checked out Sam. That's an order. Everyone else, get yourself a hot meal. Stop in at The Mess. They'll take good care of you. We'll meet back in a few hours and sort this out."

Sam turned to head to the doctor, and Anya started to follow behind her. Hoffman reached out and caught her by the arm.

"Lieutenant Stroud? I hate to ask this, but we could really use your help back at CIC. It's a clusterfuck in there. Half the staff hasn't slept in days."  
Anya raised her eyebrow and smiled. "Isn't that normal for CIC?"  
"Normal for you. Most humans need sleep to function, not just a piss-poor excuse for coffee. It'll just be a few hours, just enough for the next shift to get a bit of rest."

She looked back to Sam, being followed by Baird, Cole, and Marcus. "Mind if I go see Rossi first?"  
Bernie came up and hooked her arm through Hoffman's. "We're on our way there, too. Can't really argue with you on that."

The medical building was bustling. Apparently Rossi wasn't the only one who had been injured recently. Nurses were darting between rooms checking on patients. Sam turned to Anya and spoke quietly. "They look busy."  
She pressed her forward. "Oh, no you don't."

Marcus went up ahead of them to the center desk functioning as an intake. "We've got a gear that needs to see a doc, Sam Byrne, and I need to know the status of Sergeant Rossi."

The nurse behind the desk raised her eyes from the paper she was scribbling frantically on and looked at Marcus before scanning the others, finally resting her eyes on Sam. She pointed to the right. "Room 4 is open. Someone will be in with you in a moment." Looking back to Marcus she continued. "Rossi, you said? Bear with me, sir. I just got here and we've had a busy morning."

"Fenix?" a voice called from behind them. It was Alex coming around the corner. She had taken off her armor but not bothered to change yet. Her clothes were still bloody, and she was toweling the last bit of blood off of her hands.

"How's he doing?"

She tossed the bloody towel into a nearby bin of laundry before falling into a seat nearby. "He's in surgery. They're trying to get the bullet fragments out, but he's lost a lot of blood."

Sam came over and patted her with her good arm. "He'll be alright. He's a tough one."  
Marcus pointed to the room the nurse had directed Sam to. "Go. We'll keep you updated."

Alex looked up like she hadn't even noticed anyone else was there. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Crossbow."

Alex laughed quietly, shaking her head. "Only you would get shot with a crossbow."

"Only furthers my suspicions that those bastards are stuck in the dark ages. Who still uses a crossbow?" Sam said.

"Crossbows have their place." Bernie said. "Quiet, and infinitely retrievable ammo. Excellent for hunting." She eyed Sam's shoulder. "I just would rather they be used to hunt meals, not people."

Baird nudged Sam in the side. "Think your nurse is getting impatient." Up ahead there was a woman in scrubs standing in the doorway of the room with the four on the door. She was holding a clipboard, flipping back and forth between papers and looking around. She spotted Sam and waved her over. As Sam disappeared into the room, a young doctor came from where Alex had.

Anya's breath caught in her throat. The sight was nothing she was mentally prepared for. Doc Hayman was aging rapidly, but she was a damn good doctor. And yet, no matter how severe the injury she somehow always managed to keep her coat clean. Anya couldn't remember seeing so much as a speck on her lab coat in all the times she'd seen her. This was entirely different. The young man standing in front of her was covered in blood. He pulled off his jacket and gloves and tossed them into the bin where Alex had tossed the towel, before pulling the mask from his face.

Alex had leapt up and pushed her way to the front of the group, standing immediately in front of the doctor. "So?"

The doctor sighed, rubbing his hand over his short cropped hair. "He's stable. He'll need some time to recover, but he should make a full recovery."

Relief passed through the room like a wave. Alex looked like she was holding back from hugging the doctor before asking if she could go see him. He nodded before heading over to the front desk.

Hoffman caught her before she could head down the hallway. "Tell him we all expect him back on his feet sooner rather than later. I'll come see him myself in a few hours." She nodded and turned away, walking quickly towards Rossi's room. Turning to face Anya he motioned for her to follow him. Anya whispered something to Marcus before following behind Hoffman towards the exit.

Cole clapped his arm around Baird's shoulder and looked over to Marcus. "Someone please tell me it's time to eat."  
Bernie came over and tugged Cole's arm off, looking at Baird with a devious grin. "Why don't we let blondie go fill Sam in. He can meet us in the mess."

Marcus fell in behind them. "You cooking, Mataki? Or are we eating something we can identify?"

* * *

Baird knocked lightly on the door before peering inside. Sam's chest plate was on the floor next to the table she was lying on. Her chest was covered with a sheet, leaving her right shoulder exposed. The nurse was bent over her, stitching her up. Sam had her left arm up over her eyes, and she was cursing quietly under her breath.

"Bad time for company?"  
She peered at him from under her arm before inhaling sharply. Glaring over at the nurse she mumbled something only she could hear.  
"All due respect, ma'am, you're the one who refused the local." The nurse said calmly.  
Baird came up next to her. "Don't be an idiot, Sam."  
"Rather save it for someone who needs it."

"Who exactly are you trying to impress?"

The nurse finished with the stiches and tied off the end. She taped a gauze pad over the wound and reached into a nearby cabinet for a bottle of pills. "Take one every twice a day for seven days. Keep it dry and clean, and come back if it starts getting infected." She turned and left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Sam clutched the sheet to her chest and swung her legs over the side of the table, using her momentum to sit up. "They had to cut the bloody shirt off. Couldn't get my arm out."  
"How'd you manage the armor?"  
"Slowly, and with help."

Baird stared down at her thoughtfully. "So another woman helped you undress? And I missed it?"

"You're a pig."

He chuckled before picking her chest plate up from the floor. "You want me to call the nurse back, or do you want me to help you?"

Rolling her eyes she stood up and turned her back to him. "Can you help quietly?"

He unfastened the armor and held it up over her head. "Can you get your arm up?"

She tried to raise her arm, but let it drop back to her side before sighing in defeat. "I really don't want to leave here in a fucking hospital gown."

Tossing her armor to the floor, he unfastened his own. Hearing the click she turned, holding the sheet to her chest again. "Not really in the mood, Damon."  
Ignoring her, he pulled his armor off before tugging his shirt up over his head. Holding it out, he shrugged. "Can't see it under the armor anyhow." He rolled it up and pulled her over to him, squaring her shoulders with his. Sliding the armhole up over her right hand, he pulled the shirt down over her head, leaving her to slide her left arm up through the last opening. He smiled approvingly. "Maybe Anya will have one that actually fits, but that'll do for now. It's a good look for you."  
She pulled the bottom hem together, tying it in a knot on her right side. "Too bad it smells."  
Pulling his armor back over his head, he snorted. "You can always give it back and go topless."  
She leaned down to pick up her chest plate, but he beat her to it. Eyeing him suspiciously, she held her hand out. "Aren't you worried someone will catch you being a gentleman?"  
"I'm more worried you'll pull another stunt like that and next time I won't be able to rip the bullet through your back." It was a rare glimpse into his mind. A brief moment of insight into an otherwise sealed room. It caught her off guard and she stared, slack jawed and silent. He grasped her side with his free hand, pulling her in close and meeting her eyes. "Just, don't do that anymore, ok?" She nodded, still speechless. As quickly as it came, the moment passed. He pulled away and slung her armor over his shoulder before pulling the door open for her. He followed behind her as they made their way to the mess. "Rossi's out of surgery. Doc says he'll be fine."  
"Thank God for that."

As they passed by the packhorse they had come in on, he tossed her armor into the cab with the rest of their kit before falling back in behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13:**

The Mess was fairly empty, and it never took long to spot Cole from across the room. This early in the day there was only a handful of other gears scattered around at tables, and a few at the bar. The days of there being a stigma attached to drinking during were long gone. You never knew when an old memory would drive you to the nearest bar to drown your sorrows.

Cole was seated against the rear wall of a booth. With his arms extended to either side resting on the backrest, he could have occupied the booth himself. Bernie sat to his right, with Jace next to her. Carmine had pulled an empty chair up and was sitting at the front of the table, with Marcus occupying the edge seat to his right. Jace slid out of his seat, making room for Sam to sit next to Bernie. He grabbed two empty chairs and passed one to Baird before taking a space between him and Carmine.

Bernie wrapped her arm around Sam's shoulder lightly. "There's our girl. How's the arm?"  
"Not completely fucked."  
Bernie waved to the bartender and held up two fingers. "Then it's good enough for drinking." The man came from behind the bar with a tray with two shot glasses. Bernie grabbed a bottle from the center of the table and filled them along with everyone else's. The label of the bottle had long ago peeled, and there was no telling what it contained now. "To old friends reuniting." Bernie held her glass up.  
Cole raised his. "You mean to family, baby."  
Bernie smiled and nodded. "To family."  
Everyone clinked their glasses together and downed the shot. Jace shuddered. "What _IS_ that?"  
"I don't ask, sweetheart. I'm responsible for food, not booze." She said with a smile.  
Dizzy came up behind Jace with his girls in tow. "Potato hooch, son."  
Jace turned his glass over and set it on the table. "No offense, Dizzy, but it tastes like piss."  
"None taken. That ain't my batch." Dizzy laughed and turned to Sam. "Heard about your little hike in the woods. Glad to see you ain't too beat up to join us."  
Teresa peered out from behind Dizzy. "Did it hurt, Sam?"  
Sam smiled softly. "Of course, sweetheart. But I'm alright."  
Teresa smiled, but her face was full of uncertainty. "My Dad said you got shot. Weren't you scared?"

"Never." Sam tried hard to keep her tone soft and even. "It's nothing to mess about with, but that's what a squad is for. You don't have to be scared with a squad there to watch your back."  
Teresa just nodded solemnly, satisfied with her response. She met her eyes, and for a moment she looked fierce, not the meek child Sam had grown to care about. "Then I'll be a gear, too. When I'm old enough, anyway."  
Dizzy looked uncomfortable. He took his hat off and rubbed his head for a moment before returning it. Wrapping an arm around each girl, he pulled them in close. "Now, girls, you got a good four years to worry about that. By then, hopefully you won't need to be Gears." Teresa opened her mouth to protest, but he fixed her with a look only a father could give. She glanced back to Sam for a moment before Dizzy nudged the girls sideways. "We're gonna head back to the house for a while. Catch up. I've got my radio if you need me." He turned to go, speaking quietly to the girls on the way to the door.

Bernie had poured another round of drinks, and everyone fell into the easy comfort of familiarity. Even Marcus seemed to be enjoying himself, as much as he ever outwardly did. A few hours passed quickly, time eaten away with stories and jokes. Gears came and went, stopping by to say hello on their way out to patrol. A few brave ones challenged Cole to an arm wrestle and quickly regretted it. But if nothing else, they could say they put forth a good effort. The chatter was overlapping, and it seemed like The Mess had been removed from time for a while. There was no sense of danger looming outside. No urgency. It was almost as though the Stranded knew Delta had returned and were doing their part to be reverent. In reality, they were most likely regrouping and planning something bigger, but everyone had silently and collectively decided to put that out of their minds. For now, at least.

Eventually Bernie poked Sam in the side and leaned in to whisper. "Nice shirt."

Sam had to turn her entire body to face her. By now her neck was a giant raw nerve and any rotation just shot a bolt of pain down her back. She frowned, almost pouting. "They had to cut mine off."  
Bernie inclined her head towards Baird, who was caught up in a debate with Carmine about the proper way to prepare bacon. "Blondie's, right?" Sam froze, only confirming her suspicions. Baird caught the mention and snapped his head towards them with Carmine still talking in his ear.

Bernie kept an eye on him, feeling very pleased with herself. She was satisfied just knowing that he _knew_ she knew. She winked at him and smirked with every intention of changing the subject. She never got the chance.  
"Whoa, Baird. You gave Sam your shirt? Like, off your back?" Jace had overheard. His eyes were wide as he stared at Baird. "Shit, I never knew."  
"Knew what?" Baird snapped. "Can't a guy do something nice for someone without catching shit?"  
Carmine had apparently lost his train of thought in the midst of the newer, more interesting topic. "A guy _can_ do something nice. _You_ usually don't. You growing a heart, Baird?"  
Sam could feel her face turning red. This wasn't really how, or when, she planned for anyone to find out something was going on. She couldn't even put a name to it, so how was she supposed to explain it to a bunch of gears that turned into gossipy housewives at the hint of juicy news. Before she could jump in to defend him, or Baird could even respond, Marcus leaned forward and spoke with that voice that commanded attention.

"For all the shit we give him, you know he would have done the same for any of us. So drop it." There was an uneasy silence for a moment and a few nods.  
"Geez, way to wreck the mood." Carmine elbowed Jace before reaching for a handful of whatever type of chips were in the bowl at the center of the table. Slowly the conversation fell back into a natural rhythm.

Sam glanced over to Marcus and caught his eye. She mouthed _thank you._ He nodded and took a long slow drink of the beer someone had brought him when she wasn't paying attention. It had been true what she told Teresa; when you have a squad to back you up, even if it's against another member of your squad, you have no reason to be afraid. Falling back against the booth, she waved her hand to the bartender and pointed to Marcus' glass. He made his way over with a beer for her and a fresh bowl of some type of wild nut she hadn't eaten since she was a child. She held the bowl up and inhaled deeply, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment. The nostalgia was bittersweet, and totally overwhelming. Opening her eyes she glanced around the table. Yes, it was nice to remember the past, but she wasn't sure that she'd change the way things had ended up. While the road to this point wasn't one she'd choose to take, the destination was starting to seem a little less unsettling. She could only hope that wouldn't change too drastically as time progressed.

* * *

The command center at Anvil Gate was much more modest than any other, even the one they'd thrown together on Vectes. There were two desks side by side with computers that looked like they'd been thrown out years ago. An ancient comms set was perched between the two complete with a wired headset. The fort had been built before security cameras were commonplace, and there was no telling how long it'd be before they'd be able to outfit it with the proper gear. Until then, CIC was mostly blind here. They had to rely on short range radios for communication and by now they nearly had it down to a science.

Hourly check-ins came rolling in from the boats. So far everything had been blissfully peaceful.

Anya was hunched over the computer monitor with a headset covering one ear and her legs folded up under her. She was scrolling through documents, fiddling with her COG tags with her free hand.

"Frontline duty has wreaked havoc on your posture, Lieutenant."

She sat up immediately as Hoffman chuckled. "Relax. We stopped giving a damn about propriety a long time ago." He eyed the screen thoughtfully. "Research?"

"Side project, of sorts. Things seemed to have calmed down out there, so I took the liberty of looking into some things."

"Anything interesting?"

She raked her fingers through her hair, gradually leaning back down. "Looking for places that might have a fuel reserve. We'll need every bit we can get until we find a new one."

Hoffman nodded and leaned back against the desk next to her, sipping his coffee. He had lost count of how many cups he'd had. "How's that coming along?"

"So far I've got a handful of places listed, but I don't know if they're occupied or not."

"I meant finding a new fuel source."

She rested her elbow on the table, laying her cheek against her fist. "Baird was working on something, but I don't know how far he got. I'm actually hoping they find something in the files back on Azura. Since Marcus' father knew about the imulsion before we did, I can't imagine he wouldn't have had a team working on a solution to the upcoming fuel problem. I would have looked myself, but we came here instead."

"Lots of people can look for papers. Not many can do what Delta can do."

Smiling, she sat back in the chair and checked the clock on the wall. "My relief should be here any minute. The guys still down at the mess?"

Hoffman looked to the door as a thin, exhausted looking man came in clutching a radio and a cup of coffee. Standing, he offered his arm to Anya. "Looks like your relief is here. Let's go find out. And grab a map, will you? We're going to need it."

* * *

By the time Anya and Hoffman had made their way to the mess, it was nearing lunch time and the crowd had grown considerably. There were only a few scattered empty seats left. Most were occupied by gears or civilians coming in for lunch. It didn't take a long scan to find the table she was looking for. Some people were impossible to miss, even in a crowd.

She tugged Hoffman's elbow and tilted her head towards the table.

"Go on, I'll grab a round," he said before he split off to the bar, leaving her to weave her way through the crowd. It was the first time she had been in a crowded bar, mixing civilians with Gears, since Jacinto. It was also the first time she'd been in a crowded bar wearing armor and fatigues, not her CIC issued dress, or civilian clothes. She felt considerably more comfortable. There wasn't the looming threat of turning down strangers for drinks. Something about a female gear in armor just said 'don't bother me; I'm not here to socialize'.

Coming up to the table, she met Marcus' eyes. He stood, making room for her to take the seat next to him before sliding in next to her. At some point, Baird had taken the seat next to Sam in the booth, most likely at the request of someone needing the chair. Bernie looked comically small pressed up next to Cole. Jace and Carmine had disappeared, most likely reuniting with old friends. Their empty chairs still sat at the front of the table. Bernie glanced over and smiled warmly. "About time you got here. You leave Vic behind in CIC to curse some more?"  
"He's grabbing us drinks, I think." She craned her neck to see Hoffman coming over with a pitcher of what she assumed was beer. He had his free hand pressed to his ear.  
Bernie frowned. "Oh, bloody hell. What now?" Before she could start cycling through channels, Hoffman had made his way over.  
"Well, you'll never guess who just showed up at the gate."  
"Aww, Pad's back? He'll be happy to see you all." Bernie said.  
Marcus chuckled. It was an unusual sound from him. "Son of a bitch…I can't remember the last time I saw him."  
Taking a seat at the head of the table, Hoffman poured himself a drink. "Probably when his hair was still red."  
"At least he has hair." Bernie held her hand out for the pitcher with a smirk that rivaled Baird's.

"Maybe if I had some, you'd like me as much as that damn dog." He handed it over, narrowing his eyes at her.  
"Careful, sir. You mouth off to her too much and she might kick you out of bed. Don't want her breaking a hip with all that effort." Baird shoveled a handful of chips into his mouth, dodging a nut thrown at him from Bernie.  
Cole made a _tsk_ sound and shook his head. "Damon, baby, you _know_ she ain't above givin' you a smack. When you gonna learn to play nice?"

"For Baird, that was nice." Marcus polished off the rest of his drink. "Next thing you know he'll be out playing thrashball with you and the kids."

Bernie reached around Sam and ruffled Baird's hair before he could duck out of the way. "Aww, they can call you uncle Blondie!"

"Better than calling me the crazy cat lady" he said, brushing her off. "Only usually, they don't _eat_ their cats."

The door to the bar swung open, catching everyone's attention. The sun backlit a tall man topped with stark white hair. Hoffman stood and strode off to catch him by the bar. He caught him in a handshake before leaning in close to talk to him. Over the noise of the bar, there was no telling what he said. Pad looked up to the table and waved with a beaming smile before he leaned his head down, tilting slightly to hear Hoffman over the background noise. His smile faded slowly and his brow furrowed as he closed his eyes for a moment. Hoffman straightened up, patting him firmly on the shoulder. He turned to the bartender and grabbed a glass. Handing it to Pad he said something else low before leading the way to the table.

"I can guess what that was about." Marcus shook his head before pouring himself another glass.  
Sam leaned over and whispered quietly to Bernie. "Remind me to thank him for doing that."

Hoffman came up to the table with Pad right behind him. Before he could say anything Pad reached his hand out to Marcus. He shook it firmly and gave him that look. There were no words needed. By now everyone had heard them all. When you lose so many people you care about, there is nothing anyone can say that you haven't heard before. Everyone had lost family, friends, neighbors. There was no escaping that hard hitting, too close to home grief. He held on a little longer than normal, but that was all that would have told an outsider anything was different. Letting go, he fell into the the empty chair, taking his place next to Hoffman. He glanced past Marcus and spotted Anya.

"Holy shit….Lieutenant Stroud?" He laughed. "Traded in the heels and hair for a gun and some armor, eh?"

Anya's flushed slightly, but she smiled. "It suits me better, so I'm told. How've you been, Pad? We missed you last time we were here."  
"Hoffman told me. There's only so much you can do without steady radio contact, otherwise I would have stopped in." He turned to greet the others at the table, before his gaze fell to Sam. His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. There was an uncomfortable silence before Bernie put the pieces together.

"You remember Samantha Byrne, don't you Pad?" she offered gently.  
He nodded slowly, collecting himself. Shaking his head quickly, he cleared his throat. "Of course. Sorry. It's just…It's been a long time. You probably don't even remember me."  
"Sorry, no. But I've heard plenty."  
"Didn't mean to stare. Just feeling like I've seen a ghost, is all. Thought I'd finally gone and cracked."

She laughed quietly. "Should I take that as a compliment?"  
"If anyone else was told they looked like your mother, they would."

Jace and Carmine had spotted the activity and come back over to join them, leaning against either side of the booth. After introductions were made, the conversation came to a natural lull. Bernie leaned forward to pull out from Cole's immense shadow. "As much as I hate to interrupt this party with business talk, now that we're all here shouldn't we be figuring out a solution to our pest control problem?"

Everyone seemed to stiffen up. There was an instant switch to business mode. Hoffman cleared the center of the table and reached his hand out to Anya. She handed him the rolled up map she had tucked behind her. Spreading it out on the table, he grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl and started placing them around the map.  
"These are the settlements we've traded with. The ones we know are friendly."  
"Friendly, or friendly for Stranded?" Baird eyed the map carefully, memorizing the locations.  
"Friendly enough to not be considered hostile. Meaning they're not where the assholes that have been shooting up our boats are coming from."

"How can you be sure?"  
"We can't be." Bernie still nursed her grudge against the Stranded, not that anyone could blame her. They were a different species, as far as she was concerned. She may as well have been talking about locust drones.

Hoffman shot her a stern look and she glared right back. Baird wondered if these arguments kept them up at night, but decided against asking. Their pillow talk was their business, even if it was ridiculous.  
"Where do you think they're coming from?" Anya looked carefully over the map, too. She seemed to be searching for something that even she wasn't sure what it was.

Pad sat up so he could see everyone. He avoided eye contact, seeming to look past them. Anya couldn't tell if he was deep in thought or had just been away for too long yet again.

"The only time I've seen any of them being hostile on the ground was when I was scouting near Char. Other than that, it seems they mostly stick to the sea. They've had a few raiding parties that I've caught ransacking other settlements, but it's not like they're all wearing regional colors. And I didn't fancy strolling up to have a chat with them."

The mention of Char seemed to peak Marcus' interest. There was a subtle change in his expression. Just a slight twitch to his eye. Bernie wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been staring right at him.

Pad continued, but his discomfort with public speaking, however small the audience, was beginning to show. "My best guess is they've gotten some kind of internal structure built. The parties are too organized. They're functioning less like a pack of wild animals and more like a hive of bees, all doing the same job to serve a purpose. The raids are violent, but they always take supplies and fuel and rarely actually kill anyone. Hardly any gunfire, usually."  
"Unless there's a gear in front of them, then they have no issue shooting." Bernie's temper was raging below the surface but she managed to keep it contained.

Baird pulled his eyes away from the map to look at Hoffman. "So you mean we're looking for a Stranded chairman, or whatever the fuck they go by, who has an issue with the COG? Well, that narrows the field."

Marcus tensed again and Bernie refused to ignore it this time. "Something you want to share with the class?"  
He met her eyes, looking more irritated at the interruption of his thoughts than anything else. "Just running down the list of angry Stranded. May take some time."  
"Well, who's at the top of your list?"

"We left a pretty pissed off former CEO back in Char."  
"Pissed off enough to try to start another war up so quickly?" Bernie pressed.

"Pissed off enough that the last thing I said to him was 'go to hell', and the last thing he said to me was 'fuck you'."  
Jace spoke up from behind Baird. "Technically he didn't _say_ 'fuck you'."  
"I'm pretty sure the sentiment was the same."  
"You really think it could be Griffin behind all this?" Sam caught herself before she turned her head too fast.  
Anya answered for him. "I don't think we can count it out."  
"Gee, it sure is a shame we don't have any detained stranded to ask about this. Oh, wait…" Baird looked to Marcus, expecting a protest. Somehow Marcus still tried to maintain his moral high ground, and he most likely wouldn't be on board with torturing prisoners for information. _Where's Trescu when you need him?_ "Let Mataki have a few minutes with 'em. They'll probably give us their leader's home address and next of kin."

"I'd rather let them go."  
Hoffman slapped his hand to the table, nearly knocking over his drink. "You wanna tell me why that's a good idea, Sergeant Fenix?"

"Because we're not animals. And because they could lead us back to their base. Or had you not considered that, _sir_?" There was an edge to the 'sir' that made it sound more like an insult than anything else.

Hoffman curled his lip up in a snarl. "I considered it, _sergeant_," Hoffman could play the subtle undertone game, too. "But have you considered the idea that they may not _have_ a base? You want to spend weeks following after a rogue crew with a hope they may take us somewhere relevant, meanwhile we're losing people every day because we either can't feed them or can't patch them up?"

Through the course of the conversation they had leaned in dangerously close to each other. Sam almost wished they'd hit each other and get it over with.

Anya tugged Marcus' arm under the table. No one seemed to notice, with all their focus drawn in by the mounting tension. The contact seemed to snap him back to his normal self. He leaned back against the back of the booth, and did another long, slow blink. Sighing heavily, he turned to Pad. "Have you narrowed down any higher traffic routes? Anything that would hint to a central location?"  
Pad just shook his head and sat back in his chair. "Nothing definitive."

Cole, who had remained noticeably quiet throughout the discussion, finally spoke up. "So, say we know the who, and the where. Do we know _what_ we're gonna do about it? 'Cause I don't see many good outcomes in this. Shouldn't we be trying to make peace with the neighbors?"

Bernie snorted. "Peace my arse…"

Carmine jumped in. "We could do what Prescott did. Offer a truce."  
"Prescott had something to offer. We certainly aren't letting them move in here," Bernie huffed.

"What if we _did_ have something to offer?" Baird had dropped his eyes back to the map.  
"What would that be?" Hoffman asked.  
"Well, we seem to be in the midst of a global energy crisis, in case anyone forgot." Baird leaned back against the booth, already looking satisfied with himself. "How about we offer them a fair trial for the guy if they turn him in, and in exchange we offer them access to the research and technology we get from Azura? They're gonna need to rebuild too, same as us. And as long as they do it somewhere else, I don't give a shit if they do it at the same rate. Anyone else?"  
Everyone seemed to chew it over for a few moments. Baird cracked his knuckles, and stretched his arms, his ego clearly bolstered by the reception of his plan.

Marcus finally spoke. "So, by a fair trial, what exactly do you mean?"  
Baird knew he was on thin ice. He generally wanted to avoid words like 'trial', 'prison', 'sentence', and 'fair' around Marcus. _I'm walking on eggshells for him now? Shit, maybe I have gone soft._

"I mean that this is a democracy again, right? We let the citizens decide what to do with him. If he wants to terrorize Anvegad and the rest of the civvies, we let them figure it out when we bring him in. Let Gavriel oversee the whole thing. "

Marcus still didn't look convinced.

Bernie sat back and crossed her arms. "If you've got a better idea, I'm all ears."

"I say we find out for sure it's him behind all this before we round up a mob to haul him in. I don't want good men putting their lives on the line for a hunch."

Nudging Sam in the side, she gestured for her and Baird to get up. Bernie slid out of the booth and jerked her head towards the door. "Well then, why don't we see what our guests have to say about all this?"  
Hoffman stood to join them, followed by Marcus and Anya. Cole worked his way out of the booth, and Pad tucked his chair under the table. Looking around at the group of them standing there, Cole burst into laughter.  
"I don't know how big your cells are, but I don't see all of us fitting into one."

They all made their way to the door and gathered around the packhorse parked outside. Hoffman looked to Jace. "Where did you and Dizzy put them?"  
"Storage closets, sir. Up above the vehicle bay." Jace replied.

Marcus stepped out in front of everyone. "Hoffman and I will talk to them. The rest of you can get some rest. I have a feeling we'll need it. Baird, see if you can get a call in to Azura. Make sure they haven't hit any trouble."  
As everyone began to scatter, Bernie and Anya lingered behind. Bernie leveled her eyes at Hoffman, ready to stand her ground and say she wouldn't sit this out. She pulled him to the side and their discussion was obviously heated, but too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Anya leaned against the truck, staring up at Marcus skeptically. "Any particular reason you don't want anyone else there?"  
He came to her side and rested against the truck next to her, not quite touching her. "No sense in crowding the room up."  
"That all?"  
He just stared forward.  
"Are you worried he'll say something I won't like?"  
Marcus' jaw twitched, still silent.

"I can handle it, Marcus. You know I can. And as many years as I spent stuck behind a desk in CIC, don't you think it'd be better if I were there listening? What if one of them mentions a place or a person you or Hoffman don't know? I don't need you to protect me from him."  
As he looked down at her, she tried to work out if he was angry or disappointed. "Maybe it's not him I'm protecting you from." He looked forward again, staring into something in the distance.

It was far from the answer she expected, and she had no idea how to respond. They sat there in tense silence for a few moments before she finally found her words.  
"How long have we known each other?"

He sighed. "That's not the point."  
"No, it is. Marcus, we've known each other for nearly twenty years. I've seen you chainsaw a locust. I was there when you lost Carlos, and Dom. You were there when I lost my mom. I watched you punch Hoffman in the face. "

She looked up at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. "For God's sake, Marcus, what exactly is it you think I'm going to hear?"

His answer came in a low grumble. "Maybe I'm more worried about what _I_ might do…what you might see. I don't want you to be afraid of me. I know what I'm capable of."  
She reached down and caught his hand. Lacing her fingers in his, she felt him stiffen up. He did that slow head turn to face her, his eyes wide. She met his eyes with fierce determination. "I do, too. And it hasn't scared me yet." Noticing Hoffman coming back over with Bernie following behind him, clearly victorious, she let go of his hand and spoke quietly. "If it means that much to you, I'll stay out. But just know that I'm doing it for your sake, not mine."

He grunted and just nodded once, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before standing up off of the truck. "Lead the way, Colonel."  
Hoffman looked over at Anya. "Coming, Stroud?"

"Not this time, sir. I'm going to go talk to Gavriel. I think he'll take the news pretty well coming from me since I was stationed in Pelruan for so long. Then maybe he can fix us up with some accommodations for the night." She spared a careful look at Marcus before turning to Bernie to ask where Lewis would be.  
Leaning in closer to Marcus, Hoffman lowered his voice to a whisper. "At least yours is reasonable. Just be glad you got yourself a normal woman instead of an Islander. You'll be grateful for that when you're too old to fight anymore. "  
Marcus snorted, but his eyes never left Anya. "Don't have to wait until then."


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14:**

"You sure you're alright with this?" Bernie was peering at Marcus from the corner of her eye as they made their way to the vehicle bay.  
"Depends. What exactly do you have in mind?" He already sounded disappointed.

Sometimes Bernie wondered if he'd change his opinion of the stranded if she gave a more detailed account of her encounters with them. As they pulled open the side door to the garage, she checked the clip in her pistol. He eyed the gun before staring her in the eyes, all scrupulous disapproval.  
"I plan on asking nicely, to start."  
"And if that doesn't work?"  
"Look, sweetheart, you don't need to do this." Bernie was getting impatient. "I know you don't have the stomach for this-"  
"Stomach has nothing to do with it. I just don't think resorting to torture is a good indication of a civilization's future. When we turn into savages, we're no better than they are."  
Bernie came in close, nearly touching her nose to his. "The next time you compare me to one of them, I'll show you how _savage_ I can be. "  
Marcus didn't even react, but Hoffman still came between them, pressing her away. "Enough." He leveled his eyes at Bernie as she fumed silently. "I've got enough bullshit to deal with without breaking up fights between my own damn sergeants, so both of you knock this shit off. Now."

He kept his eyes fixed on Bernie until she relaxed. Turning back to Marcus, he continued. "I know you're not happy about it, Fenix, but keep in mind; these assholes are costing Gears their _lives_. Now if you want me to handle your friend up there, then so be it. If you want to sit this one out, that's fine. But this is happening, with or without your help."

Marcus looked up at the door to the storage area. His eyes were distant and cold. After waging an entirely internal war, he nodded with grim resignation. "Alright. But no one talks to Campbell but me."

"Fair enough. And Fenix?" Hoffman inclined his head toward Marcus' pistol, still holstered. "You do whatever you need to do."

There was a weight to the statement that was unmistakable. It wasn't permission to press hard for answers. It was permission to take vengeance. Hoffman wondered if he was being selfish. As if killing the link to the prison would somehow kill the memories associated with that time in his life. _If only it were that simple._

They ascended the stairs in silence. Hoffman couldn't tell if Bernie was still stewing or if she was simply plotting a conversational course in her head. Marcus had on his hard-bastard face that even Hoffman wouldn't have wanted to cross.

The storage hallway was made up of eight rooms, four closets on each side. The first four were reserved for ammo and weapons, the last four for dry rations, papers, and other innocuous things. Metal doors were all that stood between them and the prisoners. Bernie pulled a ring of keys from her pocket, before sliding one into the keyhole of the third door on the right. It opened, revealing the man Sam had shot. His hands were bound behind his back, and his feet to the legs of the chair. The bottom of his pants leg had been ripped off and a crude bandage was wrapped around his calf. Apparently someone had taken mercy on him. He whipped his head up at the sound, squinting into the sudden light trying to focus his eyes. "So, do we just go in order, then? Or do you have a preference? Shall we knock them all out at once, so to speak?" The man groaned under the tape on his mouth.

"If you think I'm letting you alone with any of them, you're insane. I've seen what you do to men who don't answer you fast enough." Marcus wondered if Hoffman was saying it more as a warning to Bernie or the man tied to the chair, who reacted to the news with a whimper. "You and I will start with this one. Fenix can worry about Campbell."

Handing the ring of keys over to Marcus, Bernie gave him a long, steady look. He met her eyes and gave her a slow nod that said he may still object, but he wouldn't hold it against her. As Hoffman pushed the door shut behind him, Marcus wondered if there was even any point in talking to Campbell. The poor bastard in with Bernie and Hoffman didn't seem like the willfully silent type. He gave it ten minutes, tops, before they broke him.

But somehow his legs managed to move him to the first room, then the second. It was almost comical; the dramatic build-up of Campbell being in the last room he checked. Standing at the last door, he squared his shoulders with the door frame and slid the key into the lock. Pushing the door open, he stared down at the threshold, wondering if he'd still be the same men when he crossed it again.

Campbell had been waiting. His eyes were fixed on Marcus' face before he even looked up from the floor. His eyes were piercing, full of anger. Just as Marcus pushed the door shut, a short scream echoed from the room across the hall. In that brief moment, doubt flickered across Campbell's face. The self-assured swagger was gone, and in its place was fear. The moment passed quickly, but it hadn't gone unnoticed.

The room was small and dimly lit. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating a few shelves full of boxes labeled 'canned meat', 'canned veg', and 'ration bars'. There was a long metal table in the center with a chair containing Campbell, bound like his comrade, sat in front of it. Another chair was folded up against the wall next to the door. There was a thick strip of tape across Campbell's mouth, still in place from when they'd detained him on the boat. It was going to hurt like hell when it came off. Marcus counted on it.

Campbell's eyes tracked Marcus as he moved around the small space. Unfolding the chair, he sat it at the table across from him before turning to lock the door behind him. Turning to face Campbell, he pulled his earpiece out and switched it off. Setting the keys and his radio on the highest shelf near the door, he rolled his neck slowly before leveling his eyes at the man seated at the table. He pulled Dom's knife from his boot and held it up, walking around the table. Using his free hand, he grabbed the edge of the tape and pulled it clear in one tug. Campbell growled and twitched, but managed to keep from screaming his head off.

Tossing the tape to the floor, Marcus slid the table forward. Standing between Campbell and the table, he slid the tip of the knife against the rope around Campbell's wrists; left, then right, freeing his arms before replacing the knife in his boot. He walked slowly to the other side of the table, taking a seat in the empty chair. Leaning back in the chair, he kept his hands resting on the table. By all appearances he was relaxed. The only give away was the tension in his arms.

"The COG turn you down? Or did you just realize that you weren't good enough to be a soldier?"

Campbell's voice was a low, dry hiss full of venom. "The _COG _cost me my son. The COG killed millions of people with a weapon _your _father built. The only good thing the COG ever did was lock your sorry ass in jail, and they couldn't even keep that up. I told the COG to go fuck itself."  
Marcus rolled right over the jab. "You really think working for criminals is the answer? You don't see the irony in that?"

"You don't consider yourself a criminal? You and all your buddies are a bunch of murderers and rapists. We took in refugees from a birth farm, so don't act like the fucking COG is innocent. You call us criminals, when all along you fuckers are just as bad, if not worse. You don't see the irony in _that?_ "

Campbell spit at him, but it fell short, landing on the table. He glared across the table, daring Marcus to respond.

Marcus just sighed. "Why don't you just save us both some time and tell me where Griffin is."  
Campbell blinked a few times, then smiled. Sitting back in the seat, a coarse chuckle came from his throat. "You can't make me tell you anything."  
"You just did."

"Fuck you."

Pulling his pistol from its holster, Marcus rested his hand on it in the center of the table. Campbell stared at it, sneering. "You're gonna kill me? Fine. But I'm not telling you shit."

Moving his hand to the side, he rested it on the table, leaving the pistol in the center with the barrel pointed right at Campbell's chest. He nodded his head towards the gun. "Take it."

Campbell raised an eyebrow, but didn't move.

"You wanted me dead, right? Go on. Take it."

"Like I'm actually going to-" he stopped abruptly, bringing his hand up to reach for the gun.

Before he could even make contact, Marcus' right hand covered the pistol and in one fluid motion he stood, bringing his left hand up behind Campbell's head. Pushing his face down into the table, Marcus pressed the barrel against his temple.

"There. Now you know what you just did, Campbell? You tried to murder a Gear. And if I remember correctly, martial law is still in effect. That means I have every right to put a bullet in your fucking head. So I'm going to ask you this once, and I want you to listen really closely this time because I'm not in a repeating mood. Where can we find your boss?"

Campbell's jaw hadn't recovered from the hit earlier, and he was squirming under Marcus' hand. He managed to find his voice. "See, Fenix? You can act like you're better than everyone else, but we both know the truth. We know you _belonged_ in prison. Killing me will only prove that to everyone."

Marcus shoved him back into the chair, nearly tipping it over backwards. Sitting back into his seat, he held the pistol, looking more like an extension of his hand than an accessory. "If you think for a second I didn't know I belonged there, then you really don't know a damn thing about me." He paused, letting his words soak in. "So, since you don't know a damn thing about me, let me educate you."

He leaned over the table, all menace and ferocity. He didn't need to try to be intimidating. He just let his natural expression do the work for him. The scars he had earned in prison did a lot to aid the effort.

"There are a lot of things I can forgive people for, and a lot of things I can let go. But when you mess with the COG, and you mess with Gears, you mess with my _family_. And I think we both know what happens when you mess with someone I care about."

Campbell glared across the table, resisting the urge to bring his hand up and rub his jaw.

"Last chance, Campbell. You can tell me what I need to know now, or in a few minutes, or a few hours. I've got all night. But make no mistake about it. You are telling me where Griffin is."

* * *

Hoffman led the way out of the small room, with Bernie close behind. He pulled the door shut behind them before turning to leave the hallway. They came to a stop at the railing of the balcony above the main bay. Bernie rested her elbows on the railing, staring down at the truck parked inside.  
"That was easy."  
Hoffman came up next to her and patted her on the back. "You can thank Byrne for the advantage. Otherwise you may have had to shoot him yourself."  
"Shame I didn't need to try." She chuckled softly to herself. "You know Vic, I wonder how many of their boys would crumble the moment the tape came off. I almost felt bad for the poor sod."

"Makes me feel better about our odds." Hoffman leaned his back against the rail, staring down the hallway at the closed doors. "Gave me a good measure of the competition. Maybe I'm giving them too much credit, but I don't see any of my Gears giving up that easily, bullet wound or not."

"They don't have what we do. You can be organized criminals, but a bunch of tossers with stolen guns doesn't make a _family._ They will never have that old regimental loyalty." She turned to stare down the hallway with him. "Think we ought to call Marcus back out?"

He shook his head. "Let him do what he needs to."

"You think he just needs to work it out?" Bernie hooked her arm through his. "I'm worried about him, Vic. No person can handle that much grief and not lose it somewhere along the way."  
"I know." _Maybe I just gave him an outlet._  
"You think this is going to make it better? Either he'll let the guy off easy and regret it, or he'll end up ripping him to bloody shreds and hate himself for the rest of his life." _Sod it. I'll call him out myself._

Pressing her finger to her earpiece, she spoke quietly. "Mataki to Fenix."

Light static was the only response.

"Mataki to Fenix. We got what we needed. Respond."

Silence.

"He's turned the bloody radio off."  
Hoffman didn't move. "And?"  
"I'm not going to have it on my conscience that I pushed him in there. If he ends up killing that bastard, he'll never get right with it, or with me." She strode down the hallway, planning to just knock lightly and tell him the good news.

A loud bang echoed from the end of the hallway. The suddenness of it startled her, bringing her to a stop. There was no screaming or carrying on. Just a terrible silence hanging in the air. She spun to look at Hoffman, who just had his eyes closed for a moment. She jogged the rest of the short distance to the door, only to find it locked. Banging her fist against the door, she raised her voice a little higher than she meant to.  
"Marcus, what's going on in there?" Formality had gone out the window.

"In a minute," came the gruff response from behind the door. She could hear a low voice, and struggled to make out the words.  
"Open the bloody door. Or turn your friggin' radio back on."

He wouldn't answer again, and she didn't want to press. Staring back to Hoffman, she felt nearly frantic. Not knowing what was going on was nearly driving her to hysterics, but she kept it contained.

Hoffman had his eyes fixed on the far wall, looking past her instead of at her. For a few excruciating moments it felt like she ceased to exist and the world was just going on around her. She was just about to bang her fist on the door again when she heard keys jingling behind the door.

She stood back, not even sure what she was expecting to see walk through the door. The door swung open and Marcus's massive frame blocked the sightline to the room. Bernie stared at him, silently questioning.

He held the keys up, waiting for her to raise her hand to catch them. Dropping them, he stared back entirely expressionless. "Griffin is in Char."

Bernie followed him with her eyes as he walked past Hoffman, who met his eyes briefly before he turned to go down the stairs. She was almost afraid to look back into the room he'd come from. She steeled herself, ready for the worst, before turning.

Campbell had his feet bound to the chair, and a small puddle was on the floor near his feet. She looked him over, scanning for any obvious injuries. His jaw was still bruised, and there was a long gash across his forehead that blood was seeping from. The table in front of him had a shallow dent in the center. He was cradling his left arm with his right and trembling like a cold dog. His left hand just looked _wrong_. The bones were facing the wrong ways, but there was still no major source of blood.

It took her longer than she was proud of to realize that the puddle on the floor wasn't blood.

Hoffman's voice broke her thoughts. "Should I be expecting Fenix to be outside digging a hole?"

Her eyes were still wide, and she couldn't pull them away from the man seated at the table who couldn't even look up to meet her eyes. "No, but we're gonna need a mop."  
"That bad?"

"He's pissed himself."


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15:**

Anvegad really was beautiful. The fact that there was no threat of spotting a locust below made the entire scene even more appealing.

Marcus had made his way to the top of the gun encampment at the front of the fort overlooking the long road that led to the front gate. The stairs had been repaired some time ago, allowing access to the topmost room of the tower. His arm was up above his head resting against the wall as he stared down the mountain pass through a large, glassless window. Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, he didn't even bother to turn around. "Not now."

The voice that answered surprised him. "Just came up to see how you were doin'." Cole was taking up the entire door frame when he turned to look.  
"Thought it was Hoffman." He returned to his position, doing his best to convey his desire to be left alone. "What are you doin' up here?"  
"Boomer lady told me where you might be." Cole came up on the other side of the window, staring down the road as well. "She wanted to come check on you herself, but she seemed a little worried you'd be pissed at her."  
Marcus made a non-committal grunt. It was more acknowledgement than anything else.

"You pissed at her, or are you pissed at yourself?" Cole asked.  
Marcus kept his eyes fixed forward. "Is this an either-or situation?"

Cole shook his head, sighing. "Marcus, you got nothin' to be pissed at. You do what you gotta do to keep yours _safe._ Sometimes you gotta do shit that don't feel right, but that don't mean it ain't best."

"I know, Gus. Thanks."

Cole wondered if Marcus was just saying it to shut him up. He decided to press his luck.

"Your old lady wanted to come up after you, but I talked her into letting me."

That got his attention. Marcus spun to face him, and Cole couldn't tell if he was happy about that or not. He figured he was more surprised at the way he referred to Anya. No matter how many years he spent alongside Marcus, he never did get good at reading him. Half the time he just guessed based on how many times he cussed or just how quiet he was. The other half he just waited until someone else worked it out. Usually by the time he reached a point that you could tell he was pissed, it was too late to do much about it anyhow.

Marcus blinked a few times, then swallowed. "Thanks."  
"No thanks necessary, baby. Just figured you'd want some space."  
"So you thought you'd take up less space?"

Cole's laughter filled the small stone room. "What can I say? My Mama taught me to eat my veggies." Leaning back against the window ledge, he looked over at Marcus. "You know you're gonna have to see her eventually anyway, with you guys sharing a bed and all."

Marcus raised an eyebrow warily. "You going somewhere with this?"  
"I just mean that you're gonna have to get right with whatever you did so that other people can get right with it too. Ain't nobody lookin' down on you for giving someone a roughin' up, 'specially someone that deserved it."

Marcus met his stare, furrowing his brow like he was holding back saying something. "What did Bernie tell you?"  
Cole felt like he was on the verge of saying something he shouldn't, but he wasn't sure why. "Just that you got an answer out of your old buddy, and that he was still breathing."  
"You expected me to kill him?" He sounded almost defeated.  
Yeah, this definitely wasn't how Cole wanted this conversation to go. He shifted his weight, trying to navigate the mine field.  
"I expected you to do what you had to do."

Marcus sighed. He was building up to something, but taking his time about it. Cole sat back patiently, ready to wait as long as he needed.

"I've done things I'm not proud of, Gus. But I'm not a murderer," he said quietly.

It was a heavy statement. They were all killers. Soldiers, almost by definition, were killers. Cole hadn't joined up until after E-Day, but the Stranded raids in Pelruan had taught him that he was capable of killing humans when it became a necessity. But Marcus was another story. Marcus fought at Ashpo Point. He earned his damn Embry Star there. Nearly everyone in the world was a killer now. Even the sweet and quiet Anya had grown up into a fierce grub killer.

But killing grubs wasn't murder, was it? Casualties of war weren't murder. They were just resource loss for the enemy. Damn, that sounded colder than he wanted it to. And they were at war with the Stranded, now. Stranded _humans._No more looking at the scaly face of a grub while your chainsaw ripped through its chest cavity. There was going to come a time, and soon, that Cole would have to put a bullet in the back of a human again. Was he really ready for that? Did it make him a murderer, or just a Gear doing his job? Something about killing humans would never sit well with him, despite the knowledge that it would be very necessary again, and soon. In a world where the population had been nearly obliterated, it seemed inherently wrong to kill off possible productive members of society.

_But they ain't, are they? Boomer lady says they're a whole 'nother animal. So does Damon, and most of the civvies. Then I look at Dizzy and his girls, and I just can't get my brain around it. Mama, I wish you were here to set my head right. _

"Baby, nobody's callin' you one." Cole managed to pull himself out of his own head long enough to respond. "You know we're still under martial law. Those boys came up on a COG boat lookin' for blood. They're gonna get what's comin' to 'em. The person dishing out the punishment ain't no more of a murderer than a judge or jury." Cole paused, trying to work out the best way to continue. "And anyone who calls you any different to my face is gonna get a lesson in respect they won't forget."

Marcus nodded, looking distant. Cole knew he heard every word though. He gave him a few minutes to let everything sink in before speaking again.  
"You want me to tell Anya she can come up?"  
Before Marcus could answer, the radio buzzed in their ears.

"Hoffman to Delta. My office. Five minutes."

Cole pulled himself up and headed for the door. "Shit. And I was just starting to think we'd get the rest of the day off."

Hoffman's office was cramped without a squad of Gears piled in. By the time Marcus and Cole made it, there was barely enough room for them to squeeze in. The slight breeze coming in through the small open window was no match for the press of bodies leaving the air in the room warm and stuffy.

Hoffman was up against the rear wall, with Bernie on his right and Anya and Sam to his left. Lewis Gavriel stood in front of them, speaking quietly. Baird, Jace and Carmine were to Bernie's right, silently waiting. Pad was leaning against the door frame, still uneasy in a crowded room, ready for a quick exit.

Looking up from the hushed conversation, Hoffman gestured for Cole to shut the door behind him. Everyone managed to form a type of circle before staring expectantly at Hoffman.

"No sense in a buildup. We all know why we're here." There were a few nods. "We have four prisoners to deal with. According to theMilitary Emergency Measures Act, the penalty for their crimes is death. If anyone has any reason that we should lessen the penalty, feel free to speak up."

Anya stared at Marcus, but he wouldn't look at her. There was silence.

Hoffman nodded and turned to face Gavriel. "Since you're the mayor, I feel obligated to ask you if you'd rather we have a formal trial."

Lewis seemed to ponder it briefly, but shook his head. "I trust they've given you the answers you needed, and in doing so have confessed to crimes that are punishable by death. If that's the way it's going to be, there's no sense in dragging it out."

"Alright, then. Lewis, you can go."

Gavriel nodded and turned to leave, squeezing his way through the room and closing the door behind him.

Hoffman waited a few moments before he spoke again. "We can do the math and see that there are ten people in this room, and four prisoners. I'll take care of one myself. I would never give anyone a job I wouldn't do myself, and I'd never ask any of you to put a bullet in the back of a man's head if you didn't have to. Any volunteers?"

Bernie answered first, not that anyone expected otherwise. "Wouldn't stop me sleeping at night. I'll do it."  
Baird nodded. "I have to agree with Granny." Cole gave him a small frown, but didn't say anything.

Sam, not about to shy away from it, stepped slightly forward. "I'll do it."  
Hoffman stared over at her, tilting his head a little. "You ever execute a man, Byrne?"

"First time for everything, Sir."  
Marcus, who had been eerily silent during the entire exchange, stepped into the center of the room, staring straight at Hoffman. "Leave the fourth to me."  
Sam opened her mouth to protest, but Anya nudged her side and shook her head quickly. Ignoring her, she spoke up anyhow. "I can handle it."  
Marcus turned, looming over her. She had to step back a little to look up at him. "You have a personal stake in this?"  
She shook her head.  
"Then leave him to me." He purposefully avoided Anya's eyes as he turned back to Hoffman. "Just tell me when and where."

Hoffman glanced around the room. "Anyone who doesn't feel comfortable with hearing the rest of this, or anyone who has other things they'd rather be doing, feel free to go. No one will hold it against you."

Pad shifted his weight, but beyond that no one moved.

"Alright then. We'll take them out tonight. Clear of town, out in the woods. Get the job done, and bury them. I don't want to drag a few corpses back through the town." His voice was cold, but it needed to be. "I'll have Lewis warn the civvies so they don't get nervy about the shots coming in from so close by."

Bernie chimed in. "We'll have to walk it. It's not far, but the trail isn't wide enough for a truck. Don't feel obligated to come and spectate, but we could use an extra pair of hands. Call me old fashioned, but I prefer the better numbers to be on our side."

Cole blew out a long breath. "Shit, I'll go."

She smiled, all motherly. "Cole, you don't need to."

He held up his tags with one finger. "The day I can't do my job is the day I give these up." He tucked them back under his chest plate. "Besides, may as well get used to the idea that we ain't fightin' scaly shit anymore. This may not be the fight I signed up for, but I ain't abandoning my duties on account of being squeamish."

"Fair enough." She decided against trying to talk him out of it. She turned back to address the rest of the room. "So, now that we've tackled the hard task, anything else need to be covered?"

Anya filled everyone in on where they'd be sleeping; Gavriel had some civvies pull bunks into what functioned as the community center and town hall. Hoffman dismissed everyone, with the warning that they'd have an early morning meeting to formulate a plan regarding Griffin and Char. There was no point pouring over it now while everyone was preoccupied with the impending death sentences about to be carried out.

Pad, Jace and Carmine left, most likely in search of food or a warm bed. The others lingered behind.

Sam refused to sit the entire thing out. She almost needed to prove to everyone, herself included, that she had the stomach for it. If she wasn't participating, she'd damn well attend. Since she hadn't enlisted until after E-day, she'd never really been at war with humans. The small battles with Stranded on Vectes were different than the grub war, but the basics were the same. It was all fast paced reaction to an immediate threat. There were no methodical executions. No calculated killing of an unarmed human who was bound and defenseless. But this was the war they're fighting now, and she had to be able to do it. There was no room for hesitation on the battlefield. A human enemy would kill you as fast as a locust would, and they'd all need to able to adapt.

Bernie looked to Hoffman, jerking her head towards the others. "Why piss about? We should just get on with it. We're all here now."

He spoke to address everyone, but his eyes fell to Marcus. "Any objections?"  
The answer came in the form of silence. He nodded before going to the door. "Let's get it over with, then."

Bernie fell in behind him. Baird, Cole and Sam followed, and Marcus and Anya brought up the rear. As they made their way back to the vehicle bay, everyone pulled their lancers from their backs. There was something naturally intimidating about a stone faced squad of soldiers with assault rifles at the ready. People in town had undoubtedly heard what was going on by now, or at least the short version of it. Most of the civilians gave them a wide berth. It was unclear if they were afraid or just being respectful. It may have been a little of both.

When they reached the garage, Anya, Sam and Bernie waited outside as the others went in to retrieve the prisoners. Chivalry showed in odd ways these days.

Once she was sure they were out of ear shot, Sam looked to Anya and spoke quietly. "You really think he ought to be doing this?"

Anya shrugged a little, sighing. "I don't think I'm really in a position to begin to know the answer to that."

"I could have done it, Anya. He doesn't have to torture himself like this," Sam said.

Bernie had her head tilted towards the stairs, listening for the others to come back. "Maybe he does need it." She strode over to a small storage shed next to the door, pulling out three shovels and handing them out. "Not saying anyone should enjoy it, but some shit you just need to handle yourself."

A few silent minutes went by before they heard the heavy thumps of boots on the metal stairs. Bernie tugged the door open, and the parade began. Hoffman took the lead, as usual, pushing the biggest of the men out the door ahead of him. He never did miss an opportunity to show he was still fit for the job. Cole was half dragging the one with the hole in his leg, and Baird was shoving the guy who had head-butted him along, looking somewhere between satisfied and irritated. Then came Campbell, with his mangled hand and busted face, being prodded along by the barrel of Marcus' lancer.

Anya tried not to react, but she caught a gasp in her throat. She hoped Marcus hadn't noticed, but like everything else, he did. He met her eyes for the first time since before he'd went in with Campbell, and his expression was more exasperation than anything. She steeled herself and gave him an encouraging nod before he continued along behind the others.

Bernie took them down side roads to avoid taking the procession through the center of town. The trek through the woods took nearly an hour, but finally Bernie came to a stop in a small clearing. "This should be fine. It'll be far enough to stop the civvies from having hysterics." She stuck her hand out to Cole, gesturing for him to pass over the man he had nearly carried through the woods. She took him by the arm and pressed him down into a kneeling position, looking over to Hoffman as he did the same.

"So, all at once then?" she asked.

Baird came up next to him and repeated the action. Hoffman began to answer, but whipped his head around as chaos broke out behind them. Everyone turned to look, but by the time anyone could work out what was going on, it was all but over.

Campbell had burst out from in front of Marcus. He somehow managed to pull his right hand free from the rope that bound him and had reached out in front of him for Anya's sidearm. She let out a startled yell as he stumbled into her and knocked her to the ground. His fingers wrapped around the grip, but that was all he had time to do before Marcus had exploded into action. He had dropped his lancer and caught Campbell by the arm. Wrenching his arm halfway up his back, Marcus grabbed the side of his head with his free hand and jerked him sideways out of reach of the gun. A nauseating crack sent him crumpling to the ground.

Everything came to a complete standstill. There were scattered animal sounds in the distance, but no one spoke or moved. The prisoners kneeling on the ground stared wide-eyed at Campbell's body, and the youngest one choked out a sobbing sound. Cole, Bernie and Sam had leveled their weapons at them, but only watched them out of their peripheral vision, trying to work out exactly what had happened.

Marcus stood, empty handed, staring down at the man slumped in front of him.

In typical Baird fashion, he broke the uneasy silence. "Well, that's one way to do it. Why waste the ammo?"

Marcus looked up at him, with just the last bit of fury visible in his eyes. It faded quickly, and he regained his typical stoic expression. Retrieving his lancer from where it had fallen, he made a slight shrug towards Hoffman, a get-on-with-it gesture.

Hoffman cleared his throat, returning everyone's focus to the men on the ground. He pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it at the back of the big guy's head. "You three have committed acts of treason, and conspired to murder members of the Coalition of Ordered Government's military. These crimes are punishable by death." Bernie came up behind the wounded man, and Baird stepped up behind the third and final prisoner. They pulled their pistols out, almost as synchronized as if they intended it to be. Hoffman looked left, then right, meeting their eyes before looking down again.

"Three…two…one."


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16:**

The walk back went much faster. Cole passed the time by asking Bernie all about the local wild life and how much of it he'd have to eat. By the time they made their way back to town, the sun was just beginning to set.

A group of kids were playing outside of the garage, chasing a ball around and carrying on. Cole returned the shovels to the shed before wandering over to join them. Sam and Baird had headed off to The Mess, leaving Anya, Marcus, Bernie and Hoffman gathered around watching the game. It was mesmerizing to see the largest man any of them knew running around with a bunch of children, unable to tell who was enjoying themselves more.

Bernie came up behind Marcus and tugged his arm. "Spare a minute?"

He followed her to the side of the building into a small empty alley. She turned around to face him, glancing past him to make sure no one had followed.

"I wanted to apologize," she began.

He held up his hand to stop her. "No need."

"You might not need me to, but_ I_ need to. I shouldn't have goaded you into that, and I bloody well shouldn't have gotten in your face over it."

"No harm done," he muttered.

"I just don't want you holding a grudge over me pushing you into being someone you're not," she said.

"You care that much about what I think?" He raised his eyebrow and did a slight head tilt. From anyone else she would have taken it as a joke, but from him she could only interpret it as a serious question.

She sighed. "More like…I don't think there's room for doubt in a squad. You either trust someone to do right by you, or you don't. I don't want you thinking I'll steer you wrong."

"Last time I checked I could still make my own choices."

"Yes, and I can't very well pull rank on you, either. Seniority or not. But that doesn't stop me feeling guilty for being an arse."

"If I say 'apology accepted', will you let this go?" His patience was starting to wear thin.

Sometimes she forgot how close to impossible it was to have a regular conversation with him. "I'll let it go, but I just want you to know that keeping shit bottled up isn't going to do you any favors down the line."

He frowned, and did a slow blink. "What's this really about, Mataki? Because I'm pretty sure you're not having any struggles with ethics over what we did."

It stung a little, and she wondered if he meant it to or if he was just being Marcus; all matter-of-fact.

"Did you mean to kill him?" she finally asked.

He stared like he hadn't heard the question.

"What I meant was…if it were one of the others, would you still have snapped their neck? Did you do it because you had history?" She paused. _May as well get it all out there. _"Or was it because it was Anya he went for?"

Marcus clenched his jaw. "Does it matter? He's as dead as he was going to be. Are we arguing over timing or manner?"

"We're talking about motive. I seem to recall being on the opposite end of this chat before, and back then I remember wishing I knew what you thought. So I'm telling you; I don't think any less of you, no matter what your motives were."

"Glad to hear it, ma'am." He fixed her with a look that could have cut steel. He clearly wanted the conversation to be over. "But if it makes a difference, it wasn't intentional. Instinct takes over, and you find yourself doing things with your body instead of your brain. It didn't matter whose gun he went for. He went for a Gear, and I put him down."

She nodded slowly, weighing his words against his expression before she decided he was probably being entirely honest. Not that he seemed to know any other way to be.

"You did right, Marcus. No one would say otherwise."

He grunted, turning to look over his shoulder as they heard footsteps. She looked to see what caught his attention. A family was crossing the street behind them; a man with a small boy on his shoulders and a woman holding another boy's hand. Pesangas, if she had to guess. They watched as they disappeared behind another building.

Marcus turned back to her. "Anything else?"

She started to shake her head, but stopped herself. "Yeah, just one last thing. One day, when all this shit is over, I expect you to make an honest woman out of Anya. If Vic has to order it, you know he will. He thinks of her like a daughter, and he won't tolerate this secret love affair forever."

For the first time in a long time, he looked genuinely surprised. He opened his mouth to speak, but just snapped it shut again. She patted his shoulder as she walked past him, leaving him staring after her for a moment before reverting to his normal expression and following behind.

* * *

"You've done a wonderful job here, sir." Anya had taken a seat on the flatbed of a packhorse parked in front of the garage. She smiled at Hoffman warmly before turning back to watch the kids again.

He walked around and took a place next to her, resting against the rear bumper. "Can't take all the credit, but I appreciate the sentiment, Lieutenant."

There was no denying the comfort in having such a close-knit community. The people from Pelruan had learned a long time ago how to cope in an isolated place, despite being plagued by Stranded, and the Pesangas were incomparably resilient. The seemingly odd combination of cultures had only served to create an astounding end result. The town had developed into something truly amazing.

The fishing boats had all come back for the day. People were milling around socializing and trading. Looking around now, there was nearly no evidence that the lambent had ever infiltrated these walls, however briefly.

"Do you think you'll stay here, still? Now that the war is over, I mean," she asked quietly.

He answered almost immediately. "I hadn't even considered anything else."

Anya found herself wondering just where they would all end up. At first the most logical place seemed to be Azura. The scientific research and development that was conducted up until the very last possible moment was all stored there. It was really one of the last COG strongholds, up until the locust discovered it. Even now it just seemed to be the optimal place to begin rebuilding.

So why was it so hard to _want_ to go back?

With the Stranded still in the dark about the island's existence, and the mainland being mostly reduced to ash, or taken over by small stranded communities who wouldn't look to fondly on the COG strolling back in after all these years to reclaim their land, why wouldn't anyone want to return to Azura?

_Because part of my family is here._ Sure, there were Gears back on the island. Gears she had known, and directed, and fought alongside. But they weren't _family._ Not like the squad she had become a part of. Not like Dizzy, and his kids. Not like Hoffman and Bernie. There was no mistaking the care she felt for every Gear she'd ever met or worked with, but there was also no mistaking the intense bond between every member of this squad.

_So where will I go? Wherever they do._

"…shame he never had his own." Hoffman said from beside her.

She realized he had been talking, and she hadn't heard a damn word he'd said.  
"Sorry, what was that?"

He nodded his head towards Cole. "The way he is with the kids. It's a shame he never had any."

Cole was pretending to be slowed down by a small boy holding onto his leg for dear life while another ran out ahead and held his arms open for the ball. Tossing it to him, Cole succumbed to the little one and really stoked his ego about how big and strong he was to have brought him down like that.

She laughed quietly. "I think they look at him like an overgrown teddy bear. And he just loves this." She paused, considering what Hoffman had said. "He's still got time, though."

"Yes, I guess he does."

"Do you regret not having any yourself?" She instantly felt bad for asking. There were just some topics of discussion that you shouldn't have with your superiors, let alone one whose wife had gone missing and died. "Sorry, sir. Don't answer that."

"It's fine." He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "There was a time that I did, but it lasted for about six weeks. After the Pendulum Wars ended we briefly considered it, but it just wasn't in the cards for us then. And then after E-Day…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head sadly for a moment.

"The first time I saw a grub I realized there was no sense having kids if those things were just gonna destroy everything they could. Once you decide to wait until the end of one war, it doesn't make sense not waiting until the end of another. Then after the hammer strikes…" He faded out again, but she could figure out how that sentence ended.

"Right." She stared a little harder at the kids, trying to avoid looking over at Hoffman and making him even more uncomfortable.

"Besides," he said slowly. "I've got you. And the rest of the squad. That's as close to real family as I ever needed." He reached his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her lightly. "Blood's nice and all, but it's not the strongest thing out there."

She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment and sighed, wishing she had been right about her theory that he actually was her father. But at that point, he may as well have been.

They sat there for a few minutes in comfortable silence before he stood up. Checking his watch he looked in the direction that Bernie and Marcus had left in.

"Whatever the hell they're talking about, I wish they'd get it over with. I'm starving." Before he'd even finished his sentence, Bernie emerged from behind the building, followed closely by Marcus. He glanced over to Anya, who had succumbed to a small involuntary smile when she noticed them coming.

"All these years and you still look at him that way. He's a lucky man, Anya. If he ever forgets that, I'll put him straight myself," he said sternly, sounding incredibly paternal.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't turn to look at him. "Appreciate it, sir. But I think it'll work out just fine, now."

After reuniting, they left Cole to the kids and found themselves back in The Mess for dinner. Carmine and Jace were playing cards with a few other Gears the far corner, and losing by the looks of it. Pad was sitting at the bar, slowly draining a glass of beer.

Bernie steered them to a table before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned, looking incredibly triumphant, holding four plates topped with meat and some roasted potatoes.  
"I know where we keep the good stock," she said with a wink. Passing the plates around, she took her seat between Hoffman and Marcus. Noticing the skepticism on Anya's face, she laughed. "It's goat, ma'am."

Anya wrinkled her nose, but smiled. "I guess I've eaten worse. I'll take fresh goat over old rations any day."

Between bites of food, Hoffman laughed. "Just let Salton loose with his hot sauce. You won't be able to tell what the hell you're eating anyhow."

"I heard that." Pad had come up behind him and rested his empty hand on his shoulder. "Between Mataki and me, at least we'll never let you go hungry. You should be thanking us."

"How do you have any of that left, Pad?" Marcus was looking over the chunk of meat on his plate, trying to work out which part of the goat it came from. "Thought that shit only came from the islands."

Pad pulled a chair up to the table and spun it, straddling the back of the seat. "You'd be surprised what you can get trading with the stranded over the years."

Anya chewed thoughtfully. "You think they found it here, or do you think they made it to the islands to get it themselves?"

Bernie stared at her plate. "Probably stolen goods, like everything else."

"They're not all bad." Pad finished his drink and set the glass on the table. "They're surviving like everyone else."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that."

Marcus looked to Hoffman. "So, when you're the Chairman, what do you plan on doing about them?"

Hoffman scoffed. "I'd rather have a bullet in my back than be Chairman of anything."

"It's a logical question, though. What _are_ we going to do?" Anya was looking at Bernie, but Hoffman knew she was addressing him.

"Shit. Sometimes I wish that son of a bitch Prescott was still around. He may have been a pain in my ass, but he was cut out for this political bullshit. I'm good at winning wars, not fixing social problems."

"Careful, Vic. Anyone hears you talking like that they'll demand your retirement thinking you've gone senile." Bernie met Anya's eyes. "But if it were up to me, I say we take care of this Griffin, and as much as it cramps my guts to do it, we call a truce. We can't go on bloody killing each other just because there's no glowies or locust left. We let them have their own nation and we have ours. It'll just be like the UIR and the COG again. They can come up with whatever name they want as long as they keep their bullets to themselves."

"What changed your mind?" Marcus was looking at her now. It was a simple enough question, but there was a certain weight to it coming from him.

Staring back at the food, she started working at slicing it, staying just a little too focused on the task. "When you get to be my age, and you know more dead folks than living ones, you start wondering if there's any sense in killing more just for the sake of it." Looking up to him, she offered a warm smile. "Maybe you've finally gotten to me. Invoked my sense of diplomacy. I'm not saying you let every random tosser come through the gates and have a look around, but I don't see a point in wasting ammo on the ones that haven't done anything wrong, other than fell on the wrong side of the door when it closed."

He took a bite of food, seemingly satisfied with her answer. But she still continued.

"Besides, I think eventually you get to a point that you start thinking more about how to do right by the people you care about and less about how to fuck up the day of someone who gave you a hard time. There's only so much room in your brain, and if you take it all up with grudges and regret, you don't always have room for the things that are more important." She gave him a long meaningful look, but he just stared back, completely straight-faced.

"Alright. You blokes are ruining my cheerful mood." Pad grabbed his empty glass and stood, cocking his head towards the bar. "I'm going for my last, then turning in. Raise me in the morning for the sitrep."

"You joining us for this one, Pad?" Marcus had cleared his plate and sat back in his seat.

"Try and stop me." He winked at Anya before walking away.

"Few and far between." Hoffman sighed a little.

Bernie stacked the empty plates. "Still Unvanquished after all these years," she said as she got up to take the plates to the kitchen.

"Well, hate to break up the party, but I think I've had enough for one day." Hoffman stood, pushing his chair back into the table. "I'd offer to let you stay at our place instead of the town hall, but considering our place consists of a room off of my office, and everything is covered in dog hair now," he paused to glare over at Bernie as she came back to his side before continuing. "I don't think it'd be the most accommodating place."

Anya stifled a quiet laugh. "It's alright, sir. It'll be like the barracks at Vectes. We'll settle in just fine."

The table was suddenly incredibly empty. Anya stared across at Marcus whose attention, as usual, was elsewhere.

"What were you and Bernie talking about?" she asked gently.

"Nothing," he muttered as he scanned the bar slowly, not really looking for anything in particular.

"Uh-huh," she said, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing important. Just the normal ethical debate." He still wouldn't look back at her.

Reaching across to pat his arm, she caught his attention. He turned and looked down at her hand, then met her eyes. Pulling her hand back, she pushed herself up from the table, and he stood as well. No matter how long it had been since he lived under the proper guardianship of his parents, he never managed to lose the habit of proper gentlemanly conduct when it was appropriate.

"Would you mind escorting a lady to the barracks, Sergeant?" She smirked at him, fully expecting him to grunt and follow along behind her as she turned for the door.  
Much to her surprise, he reached forward and caught her by the arm. Offering his arm to her, he managed something close to a smile. She was barely able to contain her shock, looping her arm through his as they weaved their way out of the bar. For a brief moment she flashed back to the first night they'd spent together, and she caught herself smiling.

"What?"

She looked up at him, just noticing he was looking down at her from the corner of his eye. He had his head tilted a little like he was trying to work out what she was thinking and was disappointed he had to ask.

"Just thinking." She turned her eyes ahead as they made it through the doors and into the street, which was just starting to empty out. "After all this time, we manage to have some fond memories after all."


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17:**

The town hall functioned as a sort of muti-purpose meeting place and recreation center. There was a small kitchen off to the right rear side of the main room, and on the left was a small library with a Thrashball game table and a few comfortable chairs.

A podium stood in the center by the far wall, and all the chairs had been stacked and arranged next to it to make room for the six cots now occupying the center of the floor. An old, worn out couch was pressed up against the wall right next to the door.

"Cozy." Marcus stood in the doorway, looking over the cots.

"It's warm, and dry. I'll take it." Anya pulled her ammo belt off and dropped it on the cot farthest from the door. She sat down and unclipped her chest plates, dropping them onto the floor next to her before beginning to unstrap her boots.

Baird came strolling out of the kitchen chewing on a piece of bread, coming to a dead stop as he rounded the corner and came into view. "Thought you two were having dinner with mom and dad."

"Didn't realize we were interrupting." Marcus was looking past him as Sam came around the corner, pushing her left arm through the sleeve of a clean tank top.

She stopped, looking like an animal caught in a trap.

"Not interrupting anything. Just being helpful." Baird shot Sam a stern look before heading over to his cot, already covered with papers that were spilling from his kit bag. "Bandage came loose in the woods. I fixed it."

"Always knew you should have been a nurse." Marcus took a seat on the cot next to Anya's and started pulling off his boots. "But if you're gonna lie, you might want to zip up first."

Turning to fix his pants, he cursed under his breath before finally taking a seat. Sam scuttled over to the couch and sat, looking helplessly to Anya who could only stare back and grin.

Much to her relief, the door swung open a moment later. Cole, looking utterly content, came in clutching his armor in his hand. Dropping it next to the nearest cot, next to Baird's, he flopped down onto his back on the mattress. It was a miracle that it hadn't collapsed under him.

"I don't even know the last time I had that much fun." Cole tucked his arms up under the back of his head and closed his eyes. "Little guys wore me right out."

When no one responded, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked back and forth between Baird and Marcus. "Did I miss somethin'?"

"No, Fenix is just showing off his powers of observation." Baird grumbled.

Cole looked to Anya, hopelessly confused. She just chuckled quietly. "Baird's just upset that we caught him with his pants down, so to speak."

Cole spun to look at Sam, still red-faced, then Baird before bursting into loud guffaws. "Whoo! Damon, baby, you're an animal. Can't even wait until the poor girl gets over being shot?" He barely got the sentence out before he lost it again.

"Maybe I'm making up for lost time." He smirked a little before rolling his eyes. "Look, can we _not_ talk about this? Please."

Sam could feel the blood in her face, but even she couldn't help but smile in the presence of Cole's overwhelming laughter.

"How do you manage to shut him up long enough to get anything accomplished?" Even Marcus had joined in. Any other time Sam would have been proud of him, but now she was too busy wondering how she was going to get herself out of this conversation.

Baird pointed a finger at Cole, then around to the others. "I hate you. All of you."

Cole kept right on laughing until he felt like he'd lost a lung. He swung his legs under him and sat up, hunched over catching his breath. "Shit, Boomer lady will be so happy for you two."

"Yeah, maybe she can knit us something," he said sourly.

Sam finally spoke up. "About that…Could we maybe agree to keep this between us for a bit? Just until things settle down."

"Baby, things ain't _never_ gonna settle down, but my lips are sealed." Cole flashed a wide grin at her. "But you ain't got no need to be ashamed. Damon grows on you. Eventually you get so used to him being a pain in the ass, you realize how cuddly he really is."

Baird rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, I'm a fuckin' teddy bear. Seriously, new topic. Global fuel crisis. Stranded pirates. Mystery meat in The Mess. Anyone?"

"You ever get in touch with Mathieson?" Marcus had cast him a life line and he grabbed it. He wasn't sure if it was out of mercy or if he had only just remembered, but he wasn't about to ask.

"Yeah. So far so good. The Gorasni are having a great old time trying to round up some livestock that managed to escape the grubs. Yanik caught a friggin' bull with his bare hands. So he says. The turbine's right on schedule, and they're making some progress sifting through all of your dad's research." Baird caught himself hesitating just a fraction of a second before he said 'dad' but no one else seemed to notice, for which he was grateful.

"Glad to hear it." Marcus had tucked his armor and belt under the cot and headed off for the kitchen. His father was clearly still a sore subject, and even Baird knew better than to keep talking about him.

Once Marcus was out of earshot, Anya spoke in a hushed voice. "Did they say anything about the Professor's work? I mean, does it seem like he was making progress, or just focused on the lambent?"

Baird shrugged. "Not sure. All he said was they're making headway with the papers, not what was in them." Shifting some of his paper work around, he stared down at it thoughtfully. "We've still got some solar plants out there. Don't forget, there _was_ a world before Imulsion. There was an energy crisis then, but when you cut the population by seventy five percent, that tends to decrease the amount of energy you actually need."

It was a cold statement, even for Baird. But it was true and they all knew it.

"So the way I see it, we ration the fuel for essential functions, and by the time we run out of the refined stuff we still have barreled, hopefully we'll have an alternative that can actually sustain a large city again, and we go from there." He shoved his papers back into his kit bag and tucked it under his cot with his armor. Jerking his head towards the kitchen, he looked back to Anya.  
"Sergeant sunshine seems perkier. How'd you manage that? Other than the obvious."

Anya just shook her head and chuckled. "I think Bernie can take part of the credit."

"Didn't know he was into old ladies."

"I meant she talked to him. I don't know what she said, of course, but whatever it was it seems to have helped."

He collapsed onto his own cot, shoving the pillow off to the side. "Good. We only have room for one brooding asshole on the squad, and he's been hogging the title."

_Yeah, Baird. I'm glad he's ok too._

The door swung open again just as Marcus was coming back from the kitchen with a handful of ration bars. Jace and Carmine came in looking significantly better than they had the night before the trip. They dropped their belts on the last two cots and sat down, beginning the process of taking off the rest of their armor.  
"Shit, good thing we only played for chips. We got our _asses_ kicked." Jace nodded to Marcus as he came over to hand him one of the bars he'd grabbed. "Sorry we didn't join you guys for dinner, but we were busy losing our shirts."  
"Speaking of losing shirts…" Carmine looked at Sam with a devious grin.  
"I gave it back. If I'd kept it, the stranded would have smelled me coming and run." She laughed, but cast a slightly apologetic look towards Baird.

Cole took it upon himself to change the conversational path. _Don't say I never did anything for you, Damon._

"You guys oughta come out next time the kids are playing. It's good therapy." Cole said,

Jace had tucked his plates under the cot and was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he inhaled the ration bar. "Makes me miss the kids at the orphanage. Shit, when all this is over, that's what we gotta do, Cole. Me and you. We'll do something for the kids."

Cole flopped back into his cot, too. "Sounds like a plan, baby. Don't know if we'll need an orphanage anymore, seein' as there's finally as many parents as kids again, but will do somethin' good for 'em."

"What are you gonna do, Baird? You gonna stay a Gear?" Jace asked.

Baird had never wanted to be a Gear to begin with, but he never thought of quitting as an option. "I'm not giving up my rank that easily. But given the chance, I'd rather be doing the shit I'm good at. So since grub killing is out, maybe I should start passing some of my wisdom on to the rest of the world."

Sam scoffed. "Professor Baird?"  
"No. No friggin' way. Just get back into engineering. It's what I wanted to do, anyhow."

"You know what I want to do? I want to fuckin' cook, man. Food. All the time." Carmine stood and headed to the kitchen. "What about you, Sam?"

"Haven't even thought about it, really." She wasn't lying. The locust had been such an all-encompassing part of her entire life that she never really considered what she'd do when they were gone.

"I'm pretty sure I'm in for the long haul." Anya had been quietly considering the conversation before finally speaking. "I've never done anything else, and I've been in since before E-day. They'll always need Gears, so that's where I'll be." Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, looking deceptively frail. "Even if it means getting put back into CIC." Resting her cheek on her knee, it was almost impossible to reconcile the tiny blonde girl with the woman who had recently been plunging a chainsaw full force into a locust's chest, covered in blood.

Marcus' brow furrowed, bracing for the inevitable.

"What about you, Sarge?" Carmine had come back out with a package of salted jerky. "You staying in?"

"It's what I'm good at. I'm a Gear until I can't do it anymore." He was staring at the floor, and his mind was clearly somewhere else. "I spent four years out, and that's enough for me."

The conversation had taken a swift downturn, and the tension that came along with unpleasant memories was slowly creeping its way back into the room.

"Alright, I've had enough fantasy for one day. Let's turn in. Hoffman expects us in at oh-six-hundred." Anya straightened the pillow on the cot before settling in, tugging the thin cotton blanket up over her chest.

"Aww, mom. Don't make us turn the lights out just yet." Cole already had his eyes closed, but he was smiling again.

"I don't care what you do about the lights, just do it quietly." Marcus had pulled his bandana down over his eyes and had his arms up behind his head. He crossed his legs, mindful of his lancer resting on the cot beside him.

"Well then if it's all the same to you, I'll find something to do. I'm still too keyed-up to sleep." Jace stood and brushed the crumbs off of his shirt before heading into the small rec room. Carmine followed behind, and even though they shut the door, the noise from the Thrashball game was still audible in the otherwise silent room.

Sam had settled into the couch, trying to find a position that alleviated the pressure on her shoulder. She refused to give in to the ache that was pulling at the edges of the wound, but she knew she'd feel it in the morning.

It wasn't long before everyone gave in to the usual fitful sleep. Even Carmine and Jace eventually made their ways to their beds, falling into a near comatose sleep state that only a seasoned Gear could achieve. When you couldn't get the quantity you needed, you settled for quality when you could.

But in keeping with the typical pattern, Sam shot up in a cold sweat sometime in the middle of the night. The instant she sat upright, she was reminded of her injury by a searing pain in her arm. Remembering the others in the room, she gritted her teeth and growled, falling back against the arm rest holding her shoulder with her left hand.

"You too?" Marcus was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the other cots.

She nodded and winced as it sent another bolt of pain down her spine. He walked over and grabbed his pillow before coming to sit next to her. Handing it over to her, he gestured for her to put it up under her arm.  
"It'll take the tension off the muscle. Just keep stretching it out so it doesn't stiffen up," he said.  
"Thanks, doc." She settled back in, patting down the edges of the bandage to check if she busted a stitch.

He passed her a bottle of water he had brought from the kitchen. "You really oughta be taking pain meds."  
"Would you?" She took a long drink, peering out at him from the corner of her eye.  
"Point taken." He stared forward again, leaning heavily against the back of the couch.

"When's the last time you got a good night's sleep, Marcus?"

He grunted. She took it as 'I don't remember'.

"All the grubs. The glowies. I took it all in stride. Never cost me my beauty sleep. But I just can't shake…"

"Dom." He finished the sentence she didn't want to.

"I've seen plenty of terrible shit. So I've got to wonder if it's sticking so hard because I'm feeling guilty."

"There's plenty of that going around." He had closed his eyes and leaned his head back like he wasn't listening, but she knew better.

"You've got nothing to feel guilty for," she said quietly.

"Yeah? And neither do you. He'd want you to move on, Sam."

This wasn't a conversation she really intended on having with him. She flexed her arm gingerly, trying to find a way out without setting either of them off.

Baird stirred across the room, shifting around in the cot before settling back in to quiet slumber.

Marcus tilted his head towards him. "I don't know what you see in that cocky asshole, but you'll be good for him."

"Might even get him domesticated." She chuckled quietly as she rested her head against the back of the couch. "I don't get it either, but there it is. I guess sometimes things fall into place when you're not looking." She considered turning her neck to face him, but quickly decided against it. "But you know a thing or two about that."

He stood and stretched, cracking his back. "From one stubborn asshole to another; don't wait eighteen years to come to terms with it." Walking over to take his place in the empty cot, he settled in to sleep, or something close to it.

Resigning herself to the discomfort, she managed to work herself into an angle that didn't steadily remind her of the hole in her shoulder. Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily, willing the morning to come as soon as possible.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18:**

"Alright, assholes. Rise and shine." Baird was already armored up, kicking the ends of Jace and Carmine's cots.

Anya was coming out of the kitchen with a pot of coffee. It was weak, but at least it was real coffee instead of the bitter barley tea they had to resort to drinking when the real coffee had run low. She passed empty cups around, filling them as she went.

"Lewis was kind enough to set us up with proper coffee. Spilling any will be considered a serious offense." She made her way to Sam last. "How's the arm?"

Sam extended her arm and inhaled sharply. "Better, thanks." She was only lying a little. Reaching for the cup she waited for Anya to fill it and took a long, slow drink. "Heard anything from Hoffman yet?"

"Not yet. Must have been a quiet night," Marcus said. He was still lying on the cot, fingers meshed behind his head with his eyes closed. Sam hadn't even realized he was awake.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Baird started cleaning his lancer, clearly trying to pass the time.

Cole laughed as he came out of the door leading to the small library. "Shit, baby. Maybe they heard Delta was back in town and are figuring out the best way to surrender."

Baird shook his head. "Fine with me. Then we can go back home and start rebuilding the entire fucking planet."

"So Azura is home now?" Damn, Marcus never missed a thing.

"Since my last house is at the bottom of a fucking lake now, I say we call the fancy ass island resort home. Unless you plan on growing gills,"Baird said.

Marcus just grunted. Baird wondered if he'd managed to piss him off. Anya leveled a stare at him that rivaled Bernie in its acidity. He took that as a 'yes'.

Cole jumped in, never missing an opportunity to end a problem before it could start. "I'd stay here if it meant I never have to get on a damn boat ever again."

"You think you'll ever go back to Hanover, Cole?" Jace had finished his coffee and was pulling his armor on over his head.

Baird scoffed. "If you can look past the stalks and the stranded, it's a really nice place."

"Watch it, Damon. That's my home turf you're talkin' about. It may not be as pretty as it used to be, but none of us are either."

A dry laugh came from Marcus, softening Anya's frown.

"Speak for yourself." Baird took his cup back to the kitchen, grabbing the empties from Jace and Sam on the way. "I'm still ruggedly handsome. It goes along with my charming personality."

Marcus swung up from the cot, pressing a finger to his ear. His eyes were distant for a moment before he looked up and dropped his hand. "Hoffman. Five minutes."

"Are we cramming in his office again? 'Cause I had a big breakfast and we barely fit in last time." Cole sat down to pull his boots on.

Coming back from the kitchen, Baird nudged his shoulder on the way to the door. "Just go take a quick spin around the bay on Trilliant. That oughta empty your guts."

The sun was still ascending from behind the mountain as they made their way to Hoffman's office. Most of the civilians were still asleep. The street was quiet and nearly empty, and there was a peaceful silence in the air that was reminiscent of the time before E-Day.

Outside of the building where Hoffman's office occupied a tiny corner, there was a packhorse parked near the door. Alex Brand was sitting on the flatbed, cigar already pressed between her lips. Spotting the group of them turn the corner, she hopped down and tapped the ash off the end and strode up to Marcus.  
"Noticed your squad could use an eighth, Fenix."

"Pad's already signed up for this."

"Wasn't really asking." She came over to stand in front of him, blocking his path to the door. "After what they did to Rossi, I want in."

He stared down at her impatiently. "This isn't about vengeance, Brand."

"No? Because after the shit you went through in Char last time, I thought that's exactly what this was about." Her expression was entirely accusatory. The little bits of the story she had gotten from Dizzy combined with what she already knew about Marcus were enough to tell her she would hit a nerve.

His jaw clenched. Refusing to be provoked into an argument, he met her defiant stare with exasperation. "Fine. Take it up with Hoffman."

She moved aside to let him pass and fell in with the rest of the group.

Pad and Bernie were already waiting with Hoffman in his office by the time the rest of them made it there. Crowding into the tiny space once again, Cole barely managed to shut the door behind him after bringing up the rear.

Hoffman wasted no time getting down to business.

"From what we learned, Aaron Griffin is the one behind all this."

"Ollivar is the one with the fleet, right? How do we know they weren't lying?" Baird was leaning against the wall, pressed between Cole and Sam.

Bernie smiled. "Trust me, Blondie. I'm an excellent bullshit detector."

Hoffman put on his Colonel voice, successfully heading off any side chatter. "And we know Griffin has moved back in to Char. So, now we decide what we want to do about this."

There was an odd silence. Everyone seemed to be debating on speaking their mind, or saying what would be a better strategic plan.

Baird spoke up first. "I say we find Ollivar. If he's the self-proclaimed king of the scumbags he's gotta know what Griffin is up to. Either he's with him, and we need to take him out too, or he's against him, and we can use it to our benefit."

"I've always admired your ingenuity, Corporal." Hoffman looked as pleased as he could with a serious frown still plastered on his face.

Baird practically radiated pride.

"Do you really think siccing one gang lord on another is a stellar example of COG ethics? If we plan on trying to reintegrate with any of the stranded community, I don't think pitting them against each other is the precedent we want to set." Anya was intensely focused on every word coming from each other person. The time she'd spent in CIC still coursed through her veins. She retained the ability to visualize each potential option and weigh the risks of them.

It was a quality Hoffman had always admired. "Excellent point, Lieutenant. But I'd still like to know exactly where Ollivar stands on this. Any idea what hole he might have crawled into?"

"Last time we saw him he was telling Michaelson how helpful he could be in setting us up on the mainland." Marcus said.

"So he's still at sea, then?"

"That'd be my guess." Marcus looked at Hoffman like he was getting bored of the topic.

"Well then you've got your assignment. Find that slippery son of a bitch and figure out what he knows. We can worry about how we'll use him once we work out what he knows."

"His boss took care of Massy." Baird paused briefly to watch Bernie for a reaction, but saw none. He wasn't sure if she had consciously decided not to react, or if she had moved past it. Either way he admired her restraint. "I don't see why he wouldn't do the same for Griffin if he was a problem."

"All due respect, sir, I thought _we_ were going after Griffin." Alex almost looked disappointed. She hadn't wanted to sign up for a mission for information. She was out for blood, and she was starting to feel like she wasn't going to get it.

"We are, Sergeant." Hoffman shot an unyielding look at her. "But we're not going after anyone half-assed. I refuse to put my gears in any situation that could get them _killed, _and that's what not having all the information does. So we make sure no damned pirate is gonna shove grenades up our asses while we are looking for his buddy because we didn't know they were friends."

Alex gave him a sullen nod and stayed quiet, sinking back into the corner.

Anya looked agitated. "We've got fishing boats, sir. Are you suggesting we take day vessels out to intercept a fleet of criminals and ask to interrogate their leader?"

"Damn shame we don't have that submarine." Baird was fidgeting with his goggles, unwilling to admit he hadn't come up with a better idea yet.

"Could we try to call them from shore? Didn't Baird fix the radios?" Carmine was trying so hard to be helpful. If there was one thing that family could turn out, it was optimistic soldiers.

Baird scoffed. "You think they'd answer? And the comm net is still spotty. I fixed the shit I could, but there's only so much you can do from the ground. Same reason we can't fix the hammer sats."

"What about bait?" Bernie had a distant look in her eyes. Regaining her focus, she spoke evenly. "Wild animals go for it. I don't see the difference here."

Hoffman shot her a what-are-you-thinking glare, but Marcus spoke before he could.

"No way. We're not putting Gears in danger of being kidnapped or who knows what else just to find one man."

Bernie shook her head like he just didn't understand what she meant. "No one's saying that. I just mean we stage it to look like an easy target. Send an old piece of shit sea craft out with Jack. He can cloak, and as soon as Ollivar's men show up to commandeer it, we've got a location on them."

"We don't have any ravens. How do you plan on stopping them from leaving?" Baird asked.

"Who says we stop them? Just track them back to their base."

"With the _one_ functioning bot we have left? After I just fixed it? No friggin' way."  
"Fine. Sod the bot. What about a tracking device? We send the boat out with a calculated amount of fuel to get it to the middle of the bay. Once it starts moving again, we chart it until it hits land. Then we work out how to go retrieve it."

Silence fell over the room again. It seemed as good of a plan as anyone could have come up with. Baird was pissed he hadn't thought of it himself, but decided he'd proven his worth enough since he was still the only one who could rig something up to do the job.

At the very least, Hoffman was satisfied with it. "How long do you need, Baird?"

Baird was all smug complacency. "With the shit you've got lying around here, less than a day."

"Well, get to it then. I've got to go convince Gavriel it's worth sacrificing a boat for." He looked to Anya. "Mind coming along for that one, Lieutenant? Difficult news is always received better from women than tough old assholes."

Anya just smiled and nodded.

"Pad wants to do some scouting, too. We could use some friendly stranded camps in our corner again. He's going to head to Mercy and see if it's inhabited again."

As quick as he said it, the tension swept right back in. Everyone seemed to turn to Marcus at the same time, waiting for his reaction.

Ignoring all of them, he stared straight ahead at Hoffman, unmoved. The stillness was almost frightening.

Hoffman spared him a careful glance. "He could use a backup to go along but I'm not in the drafting mood, so I'm taking volunteers."

Pad had come up next to Marcus, but he didn't seem to notice. Resting a hand on his shoulder, he spoke quietly. "Could use you as a spotter, mate. But I won't blame you for saying no." Marcus wasn't the spotting type, but it was obvious Pad was offering him the opportunity to return to Mercy on his own terms.

Anya was visibly concerned, but made a genuine effort not to object. Marcus stared ahead blinking slowly for a few moments as the turmoil raged inside his head.

"Yeah. As long as you don't mind a small detour. I've got tags to recover." His focus had returned, and there was a steely determination in his eyes that was unmistakable. There was no talking him out of it.

Hoffman cleared his throat, returning everyone's attention to him. "Alright, then we've got our assignments. Everyone else can roster out. If you're bored, you can hitch a ride on a trawler for patrol. The way things have been going, I doubt they'll turn down the extra hands."

As everyone turned to leave, Hoffman stopped Marcus with a well-timed bark. "Fenix, hold on a minute."

Anya turned to look back, but Marcus just sighed before giving her a nod. _Go on._

"I'll wait for you outside, Colonel." Anya gave one last look to Marcus and offered him a small smile before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Marcus turned to face him slowly.

"Fenix, I didn't plan on sending you."  
"You didn't. I volunteered."

Hoffman sighed. "I only brought it up with you here because I knew you'd give me a headache about it later if I didn't."

"So what's the problem?" Marcus was agitated in his own way. There was no fidgeting or shifting. Just that look that said he was gearing up for a stream of expletives but it wouldn't quite come through.

"You think you should be going?"

"You think you should stop me?" He worded it carefully to avoid it being a direct challenge, but Hoffman knew how he meant it.

"If you're looking for some sort of closure, I can almost guarantee you won't find it." Pausing, Hoffman debated briefly over spilling his guts to Marcus over old ghosts. It was an odd mix of not wanting to burden him with any extra ghosts and the desire to just put everything on the table once and for all.

He opted for brutal honesty.

"Seeing the place where your buddy died to save you when he should have survived doesn't make it any damn easier. Even if he died saving your ass. Some things you just can't get right with, no matter how many times you beat yourself over the head with how honorable it all was."

Marcus met his eyes. His voice came out as a low growl. "It's not about me getting right with anything. It's about what people deserve. And letting stranded pick over his grave is _not_ something anyone should be 'right with', _sir."_

Yet again, he managed to make 'sir' sound like a slap more than a respectful title.

They glared at each other for a few minutes, all testosterone and silent fuming. Like most exchanges between them in the last few years, there was an underlying mutual respect that could overcome the history of defiance and abandonment. Somehow they'd managed to move past the terrible things they'd done to each other if for no other reason than they _had_ to. It had led to this odd relationship that existed now; this uneasy sense of acceptance that while they both had a laundry list of reasons to be assholes to one another, they had enough regard for each other to put it aside. Combine that with the primal need to join together against a common enemy and the result was what they had developed into.

Sometimes Hoffman wondered if the war had ended sooner if they'd never have settled their grievances.

Nodding once, Hoffman stepped back, taking his turn to defuse the situation. "Have it your way, Fenix." Though there was no one else around, he slipped back into his CO voice. "But don't dick around out there. In and out, understood?"

Marcus nodded back before turning to the door.

Hoffman waited a few minutes, giving him time to get an earful from Anya before leaving. As he expected, when he left his office he saw them standing at the end of the hallway, talking quietly to each other. She had her hand out, holding onto his forearm, looking terribly worried. He was shaking his head and saying something, then her shoulders sagged and she nodded. She leaned in to wrap her arms around his neck just as she spotted Hoffman.

He felt like he had intruded on a moment he had no business being part of, and went back into his office to give them privacy. After a few more minutes there was a light knock on the door.

Her eyes were red, but there was no other indication that anything was wrong. "All set, sir?"

"To go piss off the mayor? Sure, why not." He patted her on the shoulder as he passed by, making a conscious effort to comfort but not embarrass her. He hoped she got the message.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19:**

**Anvil Gate Docks**

"No. No way. Absolutely not." Gavriel was pacing back and forth along the dock. "We simply can't afford to lose any more boats."

"Lewis, we wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. This may be our chance to find out exactly who is behind all this." Anya had put on her best soft voice. "Don't you have any that barely qualify as sea-worthy? It doesn't need to get far."

"We still _use_ the ones that barely float. I don't think you understand how grave the situation is."

Hoffman had waited long enough to step in. His voice was low, and his face grim. "No, I don't think _you_ understand. This is happening. We need to put a stop to this. Cut it off at the source. If we sacrifice a piss poor fishing boat for the good of the entire city, then I'm alright with that. And you're just going to have to be too."

Anya was grateful Marcus hadn't come along. He wasn't too happy the first time they pulled the COG-knows-best routine with the citizens of Pelruan. Even she was a little unhappy about the whole thing, but there really was no other way around it.

Gavriel sighed heavily, bowing his head in defeat. "Fine. Just...fine. Take Coral. It's been punched full of holes twice now. It leaks on calm days. I don't know how far you're sending it, but if a storm hits you'll only see it again with a submarine." He looked completely crestfallen. It was as if losing this argument had shaken his confidence more than any of the battles they'd been through.

In reality he was probably just a terrible mix of exhaustion and being beaten down again and again. The dam had finally broken and for a brief moment he looked like he was about to start weeping right there on the dock.

Anya stepped forward, ever the sensible one. Patting his shoulder, she offered him a small smile. "It'll be ok, Lewis. We'll find them, and we'll settle this. Then it won't matter if your fleet is running low because you can start building new ones without losing the old ones."

He took the time while she was talking to collect himself. By the time she finished, he raised his head and gave her a half-smile back. "I guess I'll have to have faith in you on that, Lieutenant. Because if this doesn't work, you're right; it _won't_ matter."

He turned and walked away, shaking his head a little, leaving her staring after him.

Hoffman came up next to her. "It never gets easier, does it? Telling people to put all their trust in your plan, knowing that if it goes to rat shit, they'll be screwed if they're lucky, dead if they're not."

"No, sir. It doesn't." She swallowed hard. "And I hope it never does."

* * *

**Anvil Gate Vehicle Bay**

The collection bins were a disaster. Any random piece of scrap that had been recovered from blown vehicles or taken off stranded looters had all been thrown in together. Baird was rummaging through it furiously, looking for all the components he needed. Nothing was labeled or sorted, and to any normal person it would have been maddening. But to him the entire process was soothing in an odd way. He was just grateful to be doing something only he could do. Anyone could wield a rifle with a little practice, but building things like this took skill.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been hunched over the workbench with a soldering iron before he finally noticed Bernie standing beside him. Setting his tools down, he flipped his goggles back up onto the top of his head.

"Come to watch the master work?"

Bernie just smiled. It was that knowing smile that said she was working up to saying something she found hilarious.

Pulling his goggles back down, Baird returned to his task. "Whatever it is you're about to say, save it."

"Maybe I just came to compliment my favorite clever blonde."

"If that's all it was about, you wouldn't be grinning like an idiot."

Bernie leaned back against the wall, trying to look interested in the pile of metal on the table. "Alright. Maybe I came to see when you'd be blessing me with little grandbabies." Dropping his tools, he pulled his goggles up again to meet her eyes with a cold stare. "Don't start saying that shit around her, grannie."

"Worried I'll put ideas in her head?" She really was enjoying this slow psychological torture more than she wanted to admit.

"No. She can't have kids."

It stopped her cold. She was almost ashamed she hadn't considered that. Somehow she always just figured that between her skill and her last name, Sam hadn't even been considered for part of Prescott's birthing program.

Coupled with the lingering idea that Baird was warning _her_ off of saying something that may hurt someone's feelings, Bernie was left entirely speechless.

"Yoo-hoo. Grannie?" Baird waved his hand in front of her face.

She managed to focus. "Shit. Sorry. I didn't even think of that."

He shrugged, turning his eyes back down as he fiddled with the wires poking out in random directions. "No big deal. Just probably not good dinner conversation."  
She patted him on the shoulder, and he cast a careful glance at her from the corner of his eyes.

"I didn't realize you had that much heart in you, Blondie," she said with complete sincerity.

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing to do with heart. Just trying to spare an old lady a guilty conscience. Don't need Hoffman giving me an earful after you keel over from the stress."

"I'm sure that's all it is." She chuckled as she turned to leave. "Oh, I did actually come down here for a reason." She reached under her chest plate and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it on the table, she revealed a map of the water channels with lines and arrows drawn all over it. "Gavriel's men take their fishing very seriously. I had one of them draw me up a current map. Figured you could use it when you are working out the specifics of where you want to send this boat off to."

"You could have sent _him_ over." He had pulled his goggles back on and returned to soldering something.

"And miss your handsome face?" She pinched his cheek playfully before she made her way out of the garage.

* * *

**HIGHWAY; 2 KM Outside of Mercy **

"Alright, we're pulling off. The rest of the way we go on foot." Pad slowed the packhorse and pulled it off the highway, parking it in high brush along the side of the road. Pulling his longshot from behind the driver's seat, he pushed the door closed before slinging it over his shoulder. "It'll be about a half hour through the woods, but better than being a bloody target ambling down the open road."

Marcus squinted in the direction of the small town. "Tunnel's probably blocked. We should go the back way."

"That's my way of choice every time. Besides, we're just scouting. We don't actually have to go in. Just find a good OP to check for activity."

There was an easy silence as they walked. The years of living outside the wire had really done a number on Pad's social skills, and Marcus was never one for chatting to begin with. Other than spotting a bird or two, the trek was entirely uneventful. After so many years spent on edge waiting for an E-hole or a stalk, the calm was almost unsettling.

As they came up on a cliff, Pad held up his hand signaling for Marcus to stop. He squatted, then slid onto his stomach, peering down the scope of his longshot.

Marcus slid into place next to him, pulling the binoculars from around his neck and holding them up to his eyes.

"You see movement?" Marcus kept his voice low, not that anyone would have heard them.

Pad whispered back. "Not yet, but there's no sense drawing attention to the ridge."

Staring through the lenses, Marcus' face was grim. "_Shit._" It was more of a sigh than a word. He dropped the binoculars and shook his head slowly. "Looks like it did when we left."

The small town below was a charred ruin of what it used to be. After E-day and the evacuation, the town had deteriorated, but that was nothing compared to the total state of ruin it was in now. Even without the close-up view through the binoculars, the town was a black, shriveled mess.

"It looks like the whole friggin' town blew." Pad hesitated, uncertain if he should be asking what he was really wondering.

"Did _one_ truck really do that?" He had chosen his words carefully.

Returning the binoculars to his face, Marcus scanned the entire area in front of him. "Crazy old man had rigged the whole town to blow. The pipelines. The blast probably set off the whole chain."

He had put on his Sergeant voice. There was a degree of coldness in his voice; a necessary separation from emotion.

Pad made a low _tsk_ sound before putting his eye back to the scope. "If Tai were here, he'd have some cryptic destiny related thing to say to try to make shit better, but all I can say is Dom's damn lucky." Feeling Marcus stiffen up next to him, he wondered briefly if he was going to have to explain another black eye to Hoffman. "What I mean is that he's with his family, and after years of suffering he got a quick release most of us can only dream of when we're lying on the field fragged and bleeding out."

Pad had no way of knowing just how hard that hit. He had heard of Carlos' death, but like almost everyone else he never knew the specifics. He hadn't known that Carlos had pulled the pin himself, or that moments before he had begged Marcus and Bernie to shoot him. He just knew that at the end of the day, if he had to go, he'd rather it be quick, and on his own terms.

Marcus was completely silent. If he weren't right next to him, Pad would have wondered if he'd even heard him. He took a moment to glance over at him, waiting for any sort of reaction.

His eyes were met with an ice cold stare. After serving on the same squad as Marcus, there was no missing the anger boiling just below the surface. Pad wasn't sure exactly which part of his statement had done it, but he had a feeling he was really in for it.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Just telling you how I see it. If it were me, I'd have wanted things to have been the same way. That's all."

Marcus clenched his jaw and turned back to look over the town. He spoke, his voice a low rumble from his chest. "Things didn't _need_ to be that way. _THAT'S _all." Pushing himself up to stand he took one more look over the town. "Looks empty to me. We going in?"

Pad looked up at him in disbelief. "You want to go _in_ there? Pardon my ignorance, but why?"

"It's not occupied, and there's a shitload of weapons down there that I don't want to leave lying around for stranded to come loot."  
"Shouldn't we call more Gears for that? Or do you plan on carrying hundreds of rifles and still being able to fire your own?" Pad had stood as well, satisfied that no one would be spotting them from below. Returning his longshot to its comfortable place over his shoulder, he reached his hand out and patted Marcus on the shoulder, all brotherly. "Look, if you want to go have a look and see if you can find any closure down there, I'll be behind you all the way. But if you really are doing this for war assets, then the smart play is to call for back up."

Marcus rolled his neck. "You call for back up, then. I'll meet you down there." He strode off into the woods, pulling the lancer from his back.

Pad sighed heavily before following behind. Pressing his finger to his earpiece, he raised Anvil Gate.

"Outlier to Anvil Gate."

"Go ahead, Outlier."

"We could use a few friends here. Have Hoffman send us a pair of lads to help round up supplies. Outlier out."

Jogging to catch Marcus as he walked through the dilapidated archway that was at one point a beautiful entrance to the small town, Pad fell in next to him. "So what are we looking for, exactly?"

"I've got tags to recover. I'm taking him home."

Pad nodded solemnly and cast his eyes down. He came to a sudden stop.

Marcus noticed the silence behind him and turned to see Pad staring down at the ground at the charred remnants of what was, at one point, a drone. Or at least that was the best guess he had as to what it was. "You alright?"

"History, mate. It repeats itself. We burned the entire world to ashes, and here we are again all these years later; you and I walking around a mass grave of baked corpses."

Marcus shook his head before turning back. "Those aren't people. It's not the same."

Nudging the form on the ground in front of him with his boot, Pad wrinkled his nose as it split in half. "Just because we both know that doesn't make it any less troubling."

They continued a bit farther until the burnt out shell of the tanker truck loomed in front of them.

"Wait here." Marcus said gruffly. He clipped his lancer onto his back as he approached, checking his surroundings one last time before making it all the way to the truck.

Pad tried to decide if it would be more respectful to give him privacy, but decided against the risk of leaving him alone. He settled on averting his eyes and doing constant scans of the ruins and overhangs above them, occasionally checking back to see if Marcus had moved.

The door to the truck was barely hanging on. One light tug and the entire door came loose and fell to the ground with a startling amount of noise. Marcus boosted himself up into what remained of the cab of the truck. After a few long minutes of movement, he hopped down and came back to Pad, wiping the charcoal from his hands onto his pants legs.

"Nothing. Shit….._shit._"

"Sorry." Pad said.  
"Give me a couple of minutes." Marcus stalked off, and after deciding better of following him, Pad started on the long task of gathering up the usable weapons. He'd at least have a pile started by the time the others got there to pick them up.

Making his way back through the small town, Marcus kept his eyes on the buildings for movement. It was instinctual by now. After twenty years of being a soldier the ability to quickly scan an area was so ingrained in him that he'd have a harder time _not_ doing it.

He found his way back through the church, still in ruins, and the cemetery before finally coming to the area where the Flores family tomb was. Sighing heavily, he pulled the commando knife from his boot and trudged forward. Kneeling, he closed his eyes briefly before slowly digging a hole in front of the angel monument bowed above him. He looked up to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and a small glint caught his eye.

He stood and leaned in, weaving his finger under the Cog Tags hanging from the angel's neck. There was a small, delicate necklace wrapped around the chain.

"I should have known you'd do that." His voice came out as a low grumble. Looking back to the knife in his hands, he wiped the dirt off and tucked it back into his boot.

So Dom had given Maria his tags. There was an eerie foresight to the gesture that Marcus didn't really want to consider. Patting the tags with his free hand, he bowed his head one last time. _If that's where you wanted them, that's where they stay._

The original driving force in his desire to come to Mercy was to recover something; to give Dom some sort of proper burial. But there was no need now. Dom had given the last parts of himself away. It felt wrong to go against one of the final acts of his brother. It wasn't exactly the closure he had sought out, but at that moment he had a hard time imagining a more perfect thing to do.

Sparing one last look at the grave site, he started back for Pad. The others would be there in just a few minutes, and he decided he'd be more helpful scooping up rifles. After all, Dom had done Marcus' job for him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Ok, it's 12:25 AM, so -technically- it

**'s Tuesday****! So now I can update, and wake up to an inbox full of e-mails telling me I have new reviews, right? :-)**

**And it's been a while since I've addressed you guys, so I just want to once again sincerely thank each and every one of you who has taken the time to read and follow this story, and to everyone who has taken the extra time to review or send me a quick message. It means so much to me to get feedback, and I can't adequately express how grateful I am to all of you. I would have written this story regardless, but I would undoubtedly have stalled out so many times by now if it weren't for my desire to be keep my word to everyone and keep up with the updates. As I write this I'm up to 27 completed Chapters. I suffered from some serious writer's block that kept me from writing anything for nearly a week, but thankfully it's over and I'm back in the full swing of it.  
**

**So that's all for now. Except for saying 'thank you' a thousand more times, I've got nothing else to add so far. Please keep reading and letting me know what you think, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20:**

By the time the sun came up the next morning, Baird was waiting anxiously near the door to the town hall as everyone else armored up. He had finished his tracking device the night before and was still beaming with pride as he cradled it like a baby in his arm. Everyone would have been able to guess he'd done it even if he hadn't told them. Several times.

They made their way out into the center of town with Jack hovering along behind them. The soft whir of the propulsion device was an oddly comforting sound.

There were two packhorses still parked outside of the garage with tarps over the flat beds. The haul from Mercy had taken quite a while to sort through. Many of the rifles were unusable, but there were enough left functioning to have made it worth their while. And even the ones that had been destroyed by the fire still had some salvageable parts. At the very least they were kept from enemy hands, and sometimes that was enough.

Hoffman and Bernie, with Mac glued to her side, were waiting on the pier standing in front of a terrible excuse for a fishing boat. Baird would have felt guiltier for ditching the thing if he hadn't gotten a good look at it first.

"I thought we were getting a boat, not a bath toy." He looked over the boat thoughtfully, trying to assess the risk in climbing aboard.

Bernie shrugged. "Can't be too choosy, Blondie. It floats-"

"Barely."

"But it floats." She said calmly. "So pop in your new toy and let's see you amaze us lower humans."

Baird smirked and cracked his knuckles dramatically before stepping carefully onto the boat. Jack hovered patiently behind him.

After a few minutes of muffled metallic sounds, Baird emerged from the tiny wheelhouse. "Alright Jack, let's see what you got."

The screen folded down, revealing a map and a red blinking dot.

"Impressive." Hoffman said.

"I know." Baird just kept right on smirking. He'd have that look on his face for the rest of the day.

Poking his head back into the wheelhouse, he fired the engine up. After checking the map Bernie had given him, he set the steering wheel to a precise direction and tied it off with a small section of rope before fiddling with the controls. The rope holding the boat to the dock went taught as Baird stepped off. Pulling a knife from his pocket he cut the rope and the boat surged forward into the bay.

Jack's red dot started moving.

"So when the boat runs out of fuel in about 10 minutes, it'll be in a channel and start drifting this way." Baird was pointing along the map on the fold out screen. A series of arrows flashed along a line. "I figure it'll be a few hours before anyone sees it, but it could be sooner. Jack will monitor the speed and any time it changes more than a fraction, he'll alert us."

Hoffman nodded approvingly. "You think Ollivar's men will pick it up?"

"Either they will or the recent pirate scum will. Either way it's a win."

Marcus was staring off after Coral. "You sure they won't figure out we're tracking it?"

"Nah. I put the tracker up under the radar unit. If they poke around in there they'll just figure it's all part of the same device." Baird said.

"So now we wait?" Jace asked.

"Pretty much."

"Actually, we've got a trade run to make." Hoffman said. "We're spread a little thin with the fishing patrols. If you're up for it." He was looking at Marcus. It was the closest he would get to asking outright if he was okay.

Pad had filled Hoffman in on the bit he knew of their trip to Mercy. Marcus hadn't mentioned anything to anyone, as far as he knew. But he figured he'd found something there. He just wasn't sure what.

"Where to?" Marcus asked.

"There's a small camp in Oskeny." Bernie said. "Not Stranded. Mostly just folks that decided they'd rather die at home than on the road to Ephyra, and somehow managed to be in a safe zone when the hammer strikes hit." The fact that they technically _were _Stranded didn't stop her from putting them in a separate category.

"So if they don't have the same down-with-the-COG ideas at the other Stranded, why all the muscle?" Baird was fiddling with Jack, looking back and forth between the screen and the ocean. "Why not send some civvies?"

"Last time Dizzy went there for a trade run he hit a roadblock." Hoffman said.

"Grubs?" Marcus asked.

"Stranded." Bernie answered. Only she was capable of saying the word 'stranded' with that much venom in her voice. It was like every single oppositional act any stranded committed that was a personal insult to her.

But at least she had drawn a line at some point between the folks who were Stranded by choice and those who were just surviving the best way they could when they realized they couldn't make it to Jacinto. It was progress.

"No boats? I'm in." Cole smiled his big, toothy grin. "What's the cargo?"

"Potatoes, mostly. Can't trade fuel anymore. But they've got livestock, so we trade vegetables for meat." Bernie said. "We get plenty of goats, but we can't completely wipe out the feral herd. And the occasional variety is nice. Sometimes there's nothing like a nice side of beef."

"Steak? Hell, I'm in." Baird had finally taken his attention off of the screen. The mention of fresh steak was enough to get the focus of any Gear. The effect of the slow, methodical execution of the cattle on Vectes had worn off a long time ago. Now the idea of fresh meat was all he could think about.

"Dizzy can drive. He knows the roads better than anyone else. You can fit one more in the pack." Bernie said.

Sam stepped out from behind Cole. "I'm up for it."

Hoffman looked her over. "Raise that arm up above your head without wincing."

She glared at him, but made an attempt. She made it about halfway before her face betrayed her.

"Then you stay. I'd rather you rest up for the more important fight."

She tried to look more angry than disappointed, but was barely successful.

"Take Carmine. Just don't let him near any pigs." Jace said.

Carmine smiled and shrugged. "Fine with me." Despite the war and his family history he always seemed to be cheerful. Not in the exuberant Cole-Train kind of way, but it was still incredibly admirable.

Hoffman glanced back to Marcus. "Looks like you've got some time off, Fenix." He turned to face Carmine. "Alright, son. Just don't let Baird turn you into a sarcastic asshole on the way."

"Dizzy'll be waiting at the Mess, probably." Bernie said. "We're off to check on Rossi." Mac whined from beside her. "And then I'm on hunting duty. If Jack finds our friends, raise me on the radio, will you?"

Baird scoffed. "Aren't you _ever_ going to retire? Or will you still be chasing stranded with a walker one day?"

"Keep giving me a hard time and I'll find a new place to park my walker." She was all smiles as she turned to go. Over the last few years she'd come to really enjoy their back-and-forth. Sure, Baird was a pain in the ass, but in his own way he was only showing he was worried about her. Once she figured that out, it was really very sweet.

Hoffman gave her a nod as she left, and she smiled back. Anya felt like she was looking into the future for a brief moment. Two older Gears who everyone knew were together still managing to say their casual goodbyes in a way that wouldn't give away their relationship to any outsiders. Only subtle clues to the depth of what went on behind closed doors. She felt a strange mix of amusement and sadness over it. They may never be like 'regular' couples, but what they had was even more valuable. At least she thought so. And it seemed Hoffman and Bernie had managed okay, and that was all the assurance she needed.

"Jack, stay with Stroud." Baird shot Anya an impatient look. He hated waiting around, and with the promise of steak looming on the horizon he was eager to go. "Call us if anything comes up. I don't want to miss that party."

Sam was still sulking, but was putting up a good front of agitated boredom. "Make sure you come back soon. Wouldn't want to be without the witty commentary on our day to day lives."

"Can't you make it through one day without being a smart ass?"

"Can you?"

During the course of the exchange he'd walked closer to her, making his way to go past. She leaned over and whispered quietly. "Just be careful, you bloody idiot."

He considered making a sarcastic remark, but decided to go with a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Cole and Carmine followed behind Baird towards The Mess, leaving the rest of them staring at each other in silence for a few minutes. Jack's motor combined with the gentle lapping of the waves against the pier created a comfortable background noise. The red dot was blinking steadily, following the course Baird had said it would.

Hoffman checked his watch. "Should be slowing down any time now. Assuming Baird knows what the hell he's talking about."

"He usually does." Marcus said. He looked out into the ocean again. "Can't see it anymore. Must have hit the channel."

Well that's something, I guess." Hoffman said. "I just hope this leads us to something usable." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Alright, anyone else up for breakfast? Unless you'd rather sit staring out at the water and wait."

"I'll take breakfast over unfed waiting any day, sir." Jace said as he started for The Mess.

Sam pulled away from the others. "I'm heading to the doc. I want to check in on Rossi anyhow. And I think I popped a stitch or two."

"Must have been all that rigorous activity." Anya smirked over at her. Hoffman shot her a questioning look and she immediately felt guilty.

He put on his Colonel face as he turned to Sam. "Guess you weren't gonna share that with me before heading out with the others?"

Sam was thankful to have sidestepped the awkward question, even if the alternative was a stern lecture on the importance of disclosing medical issues before embarking on a mission.

"Sorry sir. It's not bothering me any. Just trying to be proactive."

He grunted. "Well, get it taken care of, private. You're no use to me if you lose your arm. Even less if you die from infection." _Not to mention the fact that I owe your father more than letting you get yourself killed because I didn't make sure you took the proper time to heal up._

She looked sufficiently scolded. She gave him a quick nod before heading off toward the medical building.

"Come on, Jack." Anya still felt strange talking to the bot like it was a person. She'd spent so much time on the other end of the monitor, and by the time she had taken up frontline duties the bots were so few and far between it hadn't come up often. She knew Baird would insist on having a full functioning line of bots out one day, but until then, Jack was the last of his kind.

Heading towards The Mess, Anya caught Marcus lingering behind. She gestured for Hoffman and Jace to go on without them. Jack hovered patiently behind her as she came up beside him. He was still staring out into the ocean, unmoved.

"Something on your mind?" She wasn't expecting an answer. He had barely spoken after he returned the night before. He'd nursed a few drinks silently at the bar before disappearing by himself for a while. By the time he'd come to collapse into his cot, most of the others were already asleep. Now she was once again balancing on the razor edge of gentle coaxing and being too pushy.

To her surprise, he turned to face her. He reached his hand up and cupped it under her chin, tilting her head to the side to examine the light purple bruise and scraped skin that she'd gotten on her cheek when Campbell had plowed into her and sent her tumbling to the ground. A frown darkened his face.

"I'm fine," she offered as she started to pull back.

"Uh huh," he grumbled, but it was obvious he wasn't actually agreeing.

She expected him to drop his hand and give her a stern look, and perhaps another comment about his views on her taking up frontline duty. Instead he held firmly, staring intently at her as he silently inspected the damage. A long moment passed before he finally spoke.

"Sorry about that," he said, giving her one last careful look before dropping his hand back to his side.

Her eyes widened. "Sorry for what? You didn't do it."

He shrugged. "For putting you in that position."

"You didn't put me anywhere, Marcus. I was doing my job." It was her turn to put on a stern face. "I know you'd rather have me behind a desk-"

"I'd rather have you _safe_," he cut in.

"We all have to pull our own weight." She paused, debating on saying what she really wanted to.

He turned back towards the water, giving her his exasperated grunt. They'd had this discussion a thousand times. She would try to convince him that she really was where she needed to be, he'd run through his full assortment of sighs and steely looks that said he wasn't happy about her putting herself in danger. It always ended in the same stalemate.

For once she tried a different argument.

"Do you have any idea how many times we almost got blown up behind our desks?" She knew it would strike that part of him that worried about her, and she almost felt guilty for saying it. "I'm safer out here with you."

"Yeah, well I can't protect everyone." His voice was a low growl again, stoking her guilt.

"You've done fine so far," she said softly, staring at the ground in front of her.

There was another long silence. Just as she was about to speak up for the sake of filling the quiet, he responded in a low, even voice.

"Found Dom's tags."

It was entirely unexpected. Her breath caught in her throat as she stopped herself from gasping aloud. Her mind reeled from the surprise of the sudden glimpse into his mind and the shock of the content of his confession.

He was looking at her from the corner of his eye, gauging her reaction. When she became aware that he was watching she made a genuine effort to compose herself. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to work out the best way to respond. But she didn't have to.

"He left them in the cemetery. In Mercy." He looked forward again, trying to give her some relief from the pressure of being watched. Shaking his head slowly, his frown returned. "Couldn't find them in the truck. I was gonna bury his knife there. Figured he needed a proper burial of some sort, but he took care of it for me."

Anya nodded, wondering if there was a right response. She skipped the cheap clichés and went straight for meaningful support. She caught his hand in hers and rested her head against his shoulder, speaking quietly. "Good. At least they're together. He got what he wanted, and we'll never let anyone forget what he did for us."

His frown deepened. "If we had held Jacinto he'd have gotten a place at the Tomb of the Unknowns. With Carlos. What's he got now?"

"Maria. Bennie, and Sylvia. His parents. His brother." She avoided meeting his eyes, but she felt him staring down at her. "When we get all this straightened out, we'll worry about the history books and the medals. For now, just about every Gear on the planet knows what he did, or they will. I think that's the best we can do."

He nodded once and grunted, signaling the end of the conversation. Or at least that particular topic.

Jack beeped from behind her and she jumped. It came as a welcome interruption. She sighed, turning to see what the noise was.

The boat had finally run out of fuel. At least she assumed that's what had happened. It had slowed considerably but was still moving along the flashing arrows that indicated the flow of the channel.

Marcus snorted. "Guess Baird was right."

"We'll have to let him know. I'm sure his ego could use the boost." She said, laughing a little. "You think Hoffman figured out about him and Sam yet?"

Marcus shrugged as he started out ahead of her towards town. "Doubt he cares. As long as it doesn't affect their job."

She sped up a little to catch up, falling into a comfortable pace alongside him. "I wonder if he's easier about it because of him and Bernie, or because he figures it's more logical. In a shrinking world, statistically speaking it's pretty likely the handful of female Gears would end up with another Gear." She was more musing out loud than actually asking. "There was a time I'd be worried about him sticking them both on charges."

"Times have changed." Marcus said. He kept his eyes fixed ahead. "Priorities change. You realize what's important, and react differently than you would have before."

She smiled a little and nudged him with her elbow gently. "I guess we're all a little guilty of that."


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21:**

"So, Oskeny. Is it as warm and inviting as the other camps?" Baird had taken the passenger seat while Cole and Jace rode in the back with the cargo. He wasn't thrilled about visiting a Stranded camp, but if Bernie was okay with them, they couldn't be that bad.

Dizzy chuckled. "They're pretty welcoming, seein' as we keep tradin' with 'em. There's only one camp inside Furlin that we don't bother with. The others are usually more worried about what we've got to trade than starting another war."

"Animals always know how to keep their food supply going." Baird said.

Dizzy shot him a look that made him feel like scum. Sometimes he honestly forgot that Dizzy had been Stranded at one point too. "Shit, Diz. You know what I meant."

Dizzy turned his eyes back to the road. "No problem, son. I stopped letting things like that hurt my feelings a long time ago. Sometimes you just gotta realize that words are just words."

Cole rapped his fist on the roof of the Packhorse a moment before his voice came over the radio. "We got movement out in the woods. How long till we hit this camp?"

"Bout fifteen minutes, give or take. There's no other camps along this road, though. Least there weren't last time we were here."

"How long ago was that?" Baird asked.

"About a month," Dizzy said.

"Think we oughta pull off and see what's going on?" Jace asked over the radio.

"That's a great idea. Did you bring a big ass target for your back, or do you wanna just call out and tell them to take a free shot?" The more agitated Baird was, the more sarcastic he became. Jace didn't bother to respond.

Checking over his lancer, Baird switched the safety off. "Just when I thought we'd get a nice peaceful trip. Some steak, and a nice scenic drive. Is that too much to ask for?"

Dizzy had slowed down some and was squinting into the distance. He nodded to himself before pointing out ahead. "There it is. See that tower? It was a water tower back in the day. Now it's just a guard station."

There was some tattered piece of cloth waving from a pole at the top. Baird assumed it was a flag, but for what he had no idea. Stranded didn't really have any allegiance to any flag-worthy places anymore. Between the near constant moving and most of them having an intense hatred for the COG, he couldn't imagine what flag they'd taken to flying. Maybe it was some primitive way of signaling passersby. A code for Stranded on trade runs. Some type of 'yes-we're open' or 'fuck off' signal.

He hoped it wasn't the latter.

Something thunked in the flatbed. Baird figured one of the potatoes had rolled out of its basket but before he could ask Cole's voice exploded in his ear. "Grenade! Dizzy hit the fucking gas!"

Dizzy slammed down hard on the gas pedal and the truck lurched forward, sounding incredibly unhappy about it. Baird had spun around in his seat to see Cole picking up something from in between the baskets and hurling it like the thrashball star he had been. A few long seconds went by before an explosion rattled the truck and a pillar of dust rose up behind them.

"What the fuck was that?" Baird was caught between being worried for Cole and being legitimately angry that some son of a bitch had thrown a grenade in his truck. He figured the anger would be more productive, so he settled on that.

Suddenly the truck's radio crackled to life. "Hey, incoming truck." It was a young guy, by the sound of it. "We've got some nasty new neighbors out in the woods. You may wanna speed it up if you plan on surviving."

Baird grabbed the microphone, ready to spew all that anger at the first target that had presented itself. It was an unlucky day for the bastard on the other end of the radio. "Couldn't you have fucking told us that before they tried to frag us?"

"Watch it. We don't _need_ to let you in the camp." The kid – yeah, Baird decided he must have been a kid, sounded like an arrogant little prick.

_I'm gonna hate his guts. I can tell. _

"Fine, then you wanna tell us who the hell is trying to kill us?" Baird asked.

Gunfire rang out from the flatbed. Cole came back in their ears. "Shit, I think I hit someone. I can't tell with all the damn trees, though."

The truck's radio buzzed again. "You're COG, right? Gears?"

"Depends; will that earn us gunfire from your direction, too?" Baird was starting to feel trapped. With no visible targets and no way to get into the flat bed to help cover the truck, he was stuck darting his eyes back and forth scanning the trees in front of them.

"I'll take that as a yes." The kid didn't sound pissed, so Baird took that as a good sign. "Must be why they're shooting at you. Only thing they hate more than us is Gears."

"Friggin' terrific." Baird muttered to himself. He pressed the transmit button again. "Mind opening the gate, then? I don't think stopping outside is a good plan." There was a large chain link gate on wheels across a large opening in a metal fence topped with some serious razor wire. Whoever these folks were, they didn't dick around. Baird would have stopped to admire it if he weren't under fire.

The gate slid open as they neared. One more burst of gunfire rattled from the back as they sped through and the gate slid shut behind them.

"Just making sure no one followed us in and took advantage of the camp hospitality." Cole said in his ear.

The truck slowed to a stop in front of a small stone building. Cole and Jace hopped down as a small crowd gathered around the truck. As Baird and Dizzy came around to the back of the truck to join them, a young man climbed down from the water tower and made his way towards the truck.

By the looks of it, he couldn't have been more than twenty. He was a good bit shorter than Baird, but more muscular than most stranded tended to be. He was clean shaven, including his head, giving him a much more tidy appearance than they expected.

He approached slowly, presumably trying to work out which one of them was in charge before his eyes finally fell on Dizzy.

"Ahh, Dizzy. Good to see you, my friend." He had a hint of an accent, but Baird couldn't quite place it.

Dizzy stuck his hand out and caught the kid's to shake it. "Damn near didn't get to. What the hell's going on out there?"

The kid bowed his head for a moment in apology. "Sorry. I wasn't sure who was speeding down the road at first. And since the radios are down, we couldn't call ahead to warn you off."

Baird stepped forward. "The radios are fixed now. You're welcome."

The kid looked over at him questioningly. "Come again?"

"I said I _fixed_ the radios. As in, they work now. So you _could_ have called ahead. But you friggin' figured that out _after_ we were nearly fragged. By your enemies, right? Not one of your people. Nooooo, that's just not possible. Sorry, but I don't buy it."

"I don't appreciate what you're insinuating." The kid's hand inched closer to his sidearm, but he didn't look afraid.

Cole came up behind Baird and took the opportunity to stop the altercation before it inevitably began. "Let's start over. I'm Cole, this is Jace, and the blonde genius is Baird. He don't always know how to be nice to strangers. Colonel Hoffman sent us along with Dizzy to keep the cargo safe, and we ran into a little trouble along the way. You mind telling us who's out there taking pot shots at our trucks?"

Dizzy gave the kid a nod, and he eyed Baird cautiously before finally speaking.

"Forgive me. With no radio contact we've been a bit more skeptical of anyone traveling through. We've had….incidents." The way a few people in the small crowd flinched when he said it led them to believe he was putting it _very_ mildly. "I'm Alek. This is my camp."

Baird scoffed. "Yours? How old are you, twelve?"

He smirked. "Twenty two, but I don't see how that's relevant." He waved his arm, gesturing to the small crowd. "These are my people, and I do what I have to do to ensure they survive. So far I've done a good job." That earned a few nods from the onlookers. "The last few weeks have been hard on us, so you have to forgive my unwillingness to warn you off the road before I knew who you were. The way I see it, if you were just going to do the same thing they would have, it would have been easier if they had just taken care of you for us." He moved his eyes to Dizzy. "Had you called in yourself we could have avoided that. Anyone would have recognized your voice."

"So now that we've established were not here to raid your camp, can you _please_ tell me who the fuck is out there?" Baird was still agitated from the ride. This long tale of woe had done little to calm his nerves.

Alek was getting annoyed with him. "Baird, right? Ok _Baird_, I'll tell you what little we do know so you can tell me how stupid we all are for not knowing more." He motioned for the few men in the crowd to start unloading the truck.

Baird took a half step forward to stop them, but Dizzy caught his eye and shook his head. He'd have to get used to this trading without seeing the payment first. Years of experience taught him that was a terrible idea, but he'd have to take Dizzy's word for it on this one. He turned back to Alek who motioned for them all to follow. He was hesitant to leave the truck, but Dizzy gestured for them to go on as he started to help the men unload.

Alek began winding his way through the small camp. The homes were simple; small wooden and stone structures. Some of them were old shells of houses that were probably destroyed during the Pendulum Wars. The town itself was very small, which was probably how it survived the hammer strikes at all.

Alek stopped in front of a large wooden building with open sides functioning as some sort of market. He pointed at a neighboring building that had been reduced to rubble. "That used to be our market. It was hit by mortar fire about two weeks ago. It killed six people, and critically injured four more." Reaching down into a bin of bread, he pulled out biscuits and passed them out before taking his own. "When we awoke the next morning after spending the entire night arranging patrols and trying to save the few who survived the blast there was a man at the gate begging to be let in." He took a bite from the biscuit and gestured for them to follow again.

Baird eyed the biscuit carefully, considering the possibility of it being poisoned.

Alek continued. "We were skeptical, of course. All these years of being together have taught us better than to welcome strangers with open arms. But he was beaten up pretty badly, and my mother raised me better than to send a wounded man out into the wilderness." He shot Baird a smug look. "And he happened to mention he'd have information we'd want to hear."

So he had the measure of Baird, then. He knew Baird wouldn't respect him for letting someone in just because they were bruised up. But the promise of valuable knowledge was a powerful incentive.

"Come to find out he was a bit of a leader himself. 'Was' being the key word."

Baird stiffened up and tried to hide the fact that he snapped his head toward Cole as soon as he'd heard that. He immediately regretted not asking Marcus more about Griffin. At least Jace would be able to identify him. Now he just had to figure out how willing Alek was going to be to let them haul Griffin out of there and take him home for the sake of justice.

Alek had earned his place as a leader. He didn't seem to miss much. "You may know him. According to him he was pretty popular. We hadn't heard of him, but then again we tended to stick to Kashkur. Even when we moved we never really ventured over borders. Never even went back home."

"You aren't from here?" Jace asked. He had devoured the biscuit. Baird made a mental note to have a talk with him about the dangers of taking candy from strangers.

"Furlin. So, close, but not quite."

_Ahh. That's the accent._ "Wow. Thought we'd found the last of the Indies when we invited Trescu to join the party on Vectes." Baird said.

The name struck Alek. He smiled. "Ahh, Commander Trescu lives? Impressive."

"You know your history, kid." Cole was impressed.

"My mother taught me that as well. But I don't know if you could really consider me an 'Indie'. My mother was raised in Furlin but fled when the battles broke out. After the war ended she sought refuge in Kashkur. My father had been killed and she felt there was nothing but despair for her back home."

During the course of the story they had come up to a small wooden building. Alek thumped his fist against the door. "So our guest needed refuge, and once we confirmed his story, we allowed him to stay. It seemed he was the victim of a sort of hostile takeover. Which, once you can get past the irony, is really very sad."

They could hear footsteps from behind the door. Baird jerked his head to Jace, signaling for him to get around the other side of the door. He flipped the safety off his lancer and made deliberate eye contact with Cole just before the door swung open.

"Holy shit. Baird?" The man standing in the doorway was a little worse for wear; his eye was purple and a little swollen, and his lip was still puffy. But there was no mistaking the man before them was Lyle Ollivar.

Alek cocked his head to the side and looked to Baird, then Ollivar. "You've met, then?"

Baird was staring hard at Ollivar, finger still resting on the trigger of his rifle. "Actually, it's still Corporal Baird."  
"Still clinging to the COG illusion?" Ollivar said, all smug amusement.

"Looks like the COG is doing better than you. I'm not the one living in a shack that I had to beg for from strangers." Baird peered past Ollivar. "Nice place, by the way. Did it come with the smell, or is that a special type of odor you can only get from being a pirate?"

"I see losing your mother ship hasn't done anything to your piss-poor attitude." Ollivar said. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door frame. "So tell me why the almighty Gears are knocking on my door. You can't be here to kill me otherwise you probably would have just burnt the whole damn town down."

So he'd heard about Sovereign. Baird wasn't surprised, though. News traveled fast in an ever shrinking world, and a ship of that size getting blown up and left in pieces on the shore would be sure to catch the attention of any looting vultures that hovered around waiting for viable ordnance.

"We aren't here for you. Well, not really. Not unless you're somehow still responsible for the actions of the pirates that have been giving the folks at Anvil Gate a hard time." Baird smirked. "But I've come to understand that your faithful followers have jumped ship, so to speak."

Ollivar glared at him. "For someone who expects my help, you're certainly being an asshole about asking."

Cole laughed. "Damon don't know any other way to be. And I think you have just as much to gain from this as we do."

"Oh yeah? How's that? It's not my ships being blown up, or my people being killed."

"Not yet." Jace said.

"But the way I see it, you help us track down the new king of the scum bags, and you get ships and people back. If they get blown up and killed later, then it can be your problem again." Baird knew he'd go for it before he even finished the sentence. Ollivar was a born leader. It had been written all over him the first time they'd met. He lived for the pirate life, and living in a small shack with a bunch of hospitable strangers probably fell pretty low on the list of things he'd like to be doing. "As long as you stick to the last deal; you stay out of our way and we stay out of yours, I doubt Hoffman would have any problem turning the little pirate fleet back over to you when we get rid of your replacement."

There was a hungry look in Ollivar's eye that was unmistakable. Baird wasn't sure if he missed the power, the people, or was just bitter about losing everything he had built. Either way he figured he could use it to their advantage.

"I mean, unless you'd rather we just keep everything we get for ourselves. You know; war assets." He looked at Cole who just smiled.

Cole knew exactly what he was up to. "Yeah, baby. We could use some nice new shiny boats."

"Alright, forget it. I'll take you to him, but you let me shoot the bastard myself." Ollivar was seething now. Mission accomplished.

"You'll have to take that up with Hoffman. Boy, he'll be thrilled to see you." Baird turned back to Alek. "Better go see if they got the truck loaded. I'll give Hoffman the good news."

Ollivar's jaw dropped. "He came with you?"  
"No, dumbass. On the radio."

He still looked surprised. "Radios don't work. Not at that range."

Baird just chuckled as he walked away. "Guess you picked the wrong side after all. Since there was sweet fuck-all you guys could have done for the comm net."

Ollivar went back inside. Baird figured he was packing what little shit he had. He probably wasn't planning to return.

Alek followed behind them on the way to the truck. "I doubt he'll be back."

Cole shook his head. "Damn shame his momma didn't raise _him_ better. No manners."

"If we only do things for others in exchange for gratitude or rewards, than we are not doing it for the right reasons. You do good things because it's right, not because you need something in return." Alek was wise beyond his years. Cole wondered if growing up in a world ravaged by war had done that to him. He felt another pang of sorrow for all the kids that had grown up knowing nothing but running and death. He made a vow to himself, for the thousandth time, to do something good for the kids every chance he got.

Dizzy was leaning against the side of the truck sipping slowly from his flask. Baird had gone around the front of the truck with his finger were pressed to his ear. After a few moments he was shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Cole figured Hoffman was giving him an earful about bringing Ollivar back with them.

Baird waved Dizzy, Jace and Cole over. Cole nodded to Alek, leaving him to check over the supplies in the back of the truck to make sure the trade was even.

Keeping his voice low, Baird spoke. "Hoffman says to make sure we don't tell our new buddies about the fuel problem just yet. They can't drill anyhow, so they only trade for the refined stuff. If we tell them it's going to run out, and soon, we'll have a whole new war on our hands. For now it's need-to-know only. If they ask why there was no fuel on this run, we just tell them we're running low. Period."

There were nods all around as Jace gestured behind Baird. "Here comes our buddy."

Ollivar had a small duffel bag with him, but no visible weapons. Baird was skeptical. "No gun?"

Alek came back out from behind the truck, seemingly satisfied with the cargo. "Our new friend didn't come with any weapons, and we didn't think it was necessary to provide him with one."

Ollivar looked pissed. Baird wondered just how much it grated his nerves to be considered undeserving of his own gun here.

"You're going to give me one for the ride back, right?" He was staring at Cole. He must have figured he'd have a better chance of a yes from him.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Cole said.

"Oh, come on man. They're gonna be shooting at us! You know I'm a good shot. Can you honestly tell me you don't want the help?" Ollivar pressed.

"No friggin' way am I handing you a gun until we're all on the same page. You'll be fine. Just keep your head down." Baird nudged Jace's arm. "You get shotgun this time. I'm in the back."

Dizzy climbed into the driver's seat and the engine coughed and sputtered before settling into a steady rumble. Baird made a mental note to check it out when they got back.

Alek looked up from the ground as Cole extended his arm to pull Baird into the flatbed. He repeated the gesture for Ollivar, but it was met with refusal. "So it's true, isn't it? The locust are finally gone?"

Cole smiled his big beaming smile as Ollivar clambered into the back of the truck unassisted. "Sure are, baby. And the glowies. Feel free to get comfortable here. Once we take care of this last problem maybe the world can start gettin' right again."

Alek's eyes closed for a moment and he smiled. He looked up to Cole again with complete sincerity. "Well then I suppose I should say thank you. We all should. After all these years the COG came through after all. Thank you."

Ollivar scoffed from behind them and muttered under his breath. "They told us they were gone after Jacinto, too."

Cole and Baird just ignored him. They refused to let him destroy the moment.

Cole reached his hand out and shook Alek's firmly. "Just doing our job, son. But we appreciate the support and we'll take it where we can get it." He rested his hands on the top of the cab. "When all this shit is over we'll have to come back and set up some steady trade routes. I'm sure you'll hear from us soon."

"I hope I do, Cole. Drive safe." He waved his hand to the guy manning the gate and it slid open slowly. "We've got someone in the tower to signal you if they spot anything, but as of right now it looks like the road's clear."

"Then we better get going." Baird hated long goodbyes. He pounded his hand on the roof of the cab and the truck lurched forward towards the gate.

Ollivar took a seat against the side rail, looking somewhere between bored and completely pissed. Eventually he let his head fall back and his eyes close and Cole found himself wondering how anyone could sleep that way on a route they knew was dangerous.

Checking over his lancer he glued his eyes to the woods, scanning back and forth as fast as he could while making sure he wouldn't miss anything. Occasionally he let his eyes pass over Ollivar when he looped his scan around. _Shit, I guess if no one would let me have a gun I'd be doing the same thing. If I was gonna die I'd rather be asleep than wishing I had something to shoot back with._

"Think Hoffman's gonna deck him when we pull up?" Baird asked, keeping his eyes on the woods on his own side of the truck.

Cole laughed a little. "The old guy still has it in him. I wouldn't be surprised if he did."

"Let's just hope we make it back with him in one piece."

"Baby, you can't just hope that for him." Cole said, doing yet another scan of the woods before squinting off into the distance. "We've got a ways to go before we hit clear fields. How about we hope none of us get punched full of holes until we get home?"

Baird snorted. "Sounds like a valid plan to me." Pressing his finger to his ear, he spoke so they'd hear him in the cab. "Can't you get this thing going any faster, Dizzy? There's a steak back here with my name on it."

"Sure thing, son. Just hang on tight. Don't need you bouncing down the road behind us." Dizzy said as the truck sped up. The trees became a blur as the clear fields came up faster. At this rate they'd make it home in time for dinner.

Baird was counting on that.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22:**

"You alright, sir?" Anya was eyeing Hoffman carefully as he stared down the road waiting for the packhorse.

He could feel the heat in his face. He'd have to get a grip on his anger before the guys pulled up with that little weasel in the back of the truck or he'd end up beating him to death before they got anything out of him.

Ollivar had met up with Michaelson and the rest of the Sovereign crew after leaving Vectes, but Hoffman hadn't seen him since the tense confrontation in CIC. The knowledge that Ollivar would be able to help them track down the person responsible for the deaths of a few civvies and the attacks on the Gears was the only thing that kept him from having Baird leave him in a ditch somewhere.

"Fine, Lieutenant."

She didn't believe him for a second. "No offense sir, but if you end up having a heart attack, Mataki will never forgive me and I really don't want to get on her bad side. If you need a few minutes I'll send them to your office when you're ready."

He glanced over at her and she offered him a little smile. She tried so hard to make sure everyone was alright all the time. He wondered if she would have been a nurse or a doctor if her mother hadn't set such a stellar example for her of what a Gear should be. Not that he could complain about her decision to follow her mother into the service. Sometimes he wondered what he ever would have done without her.

He blew out a long breath. "I promise not to strangle him as soon as he steps off the truck."

She debated between making a light hearted joke and restating her concern for his well-being, but before she could respond they heard the Packhorse rumbling along the gravel. It came into view just a few moments later. Cole's massive frame and Baird's bright blonde hair bouncing along in the flatbed were a dead giveaway that it was the right truck.

"Deep breath, sir. Time to put on our diplomatic faces."

"And if diplomacy fails?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Well, sir. I trust you'll figure something out." There was no judgment in her voice. She never held anything against him. All the shitty things he'd done in the time he'd known her and she never once treated him like the bastard he sometimes felt like. Even after everything with Marcus she never had a cross word for him. Sometimes he had wished she would have just screamed at him and gotten it over with, but now he was just full of admiration and gratitude. She was such a fiercely loyal woman, second only to Bernie in his eyes. The fact that there was no romantic obligation to their relationship only made it that much more impressive.

Marcus had appeared behind them during the course of their discussion. "Guess we've got company. Better roll out the welcome mat." He had his lancer clipped to his back, but right hand hovered near his pistol. He may not have wanted a fight but he was clearly expecting trouble.

The packhorse rolled through the gate and up to the vehicle bay. Hoffman followed, with Marcus and Anya close behind him.

As the truck slowed to a stop, Cole stepped over the baskets in the back and hopped down. "We brought dinner, baby. Who's cookin'?"

Jace and Dizzy had come out to join them as Baird climbed out of the flatbed. He jerked his head towards the truck. "We brought a guest for dinner."

"So I heard." Marcus muttered, eyeing the truck carefully.

Ollivar stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants as he surveyed the surrounding buildings before looking over the group of Gears standing around the truck. "Looks like the stranded life isn't treating you folks so badly after all." He hopped down, pulling his bag behind him and slinging it over his shoulder. "But I heard you're still playing soldiers; ranks and all."

"Watch it." Hoffman growled.

Ollivar laughed sourly. "Shit. I better mind my manners or I'll end up getting arrested. Tell me; are you as soft on prisoners as you were before?"

Marcus took a half step forward to come out from behind Hoffman. The two of them presenting a united front was a truly frightening sight. "If you're smart you won't give us a chance to show you."

"Like I'm not a prisoner now?"

Baird scoffed. "Hey, you ungrateful asshole, you can go back to your hovel and friggin' well die for all I care. This is the best deal you're gonna get, so shut the hell up and try some gratitude for once in your sorry life." He came around and stood next to Cole. "Geez, can't even be grateful that we killed the fucking grubs."

Ollivar shot his eyes to Hoffman. "Yeah, speaking of; how _did_ you manage that? I know none of you idiots would have been able to manage that on your own."

"Someone's bitter that they picked the losing team." Baird said with a smirk.

"Because the almighty COG is the 'winning' team?"

"Thanks to Professor Fenix, yeah."

Marcus tensed at the mention of his father.

Ollivar spun to face him. "Fenix. Your old man, right? The one that made the hammer. I guess you can't un-learn how to be a mass murderer."

Hoffman stepped in front of Marcus just as he raised his fist. He knew what it took to get a swing from Marcus, and Ollivar had steamrolled right into it.

Cole came up behind Marcus and caught his arm, pulling him away. "Come on, baby. It ain't worth it. Not yet."

Marcus jerked his arm free as they walked away. Cole stayed slightly behind him, glancing over his shoulder to see if Ollivar planned on running his mouth anymore. Marcus always had that temper simmering below the surface, but it seemed like ever since he'd lost Dom it took a lot less to reach the boiling point. And now, without an outlet - a locust, to drive your chainsaw into when you were feeling particularly bad about a loss, there was a lot of anger left over in your daily life. Cole was just waiting for the dam to burst.

Hoffman had leaned in dangerously close to Ollivar. His voice was low and fierce. "Let's get one thing clear here; just because you may know where we can find the person giving me a headache doesn't mean I won't put a bullet in your head if you become a bigger one. Do we understand each other?"

Ollivar didn't back down, but he suddenly looked a little less certain of himself. He tried to look at ease, crossing his arms and making an effort to look bored. But there was just a glimmer of doubt in his eyes and that was all Hoffman needed to see.

"And I suggest you steer clear of Sergeant Fenix, and any mention of his father. I've seen what that man can do, and I won't do a damn thing to stop him next time. Do we _understand_ each other?"

Ollivar stared back defiantly, but gave a slight nod. "Fine. But just so we're on the same page here, your _corporal_ told me I'd be getting my fleet back. My help isn't gonna be free."

Hoffman made a conscious effort not to whip his head around to start spewing expletives at Baird. He made a mental note of all the venom he'd have for him later. "Well my Corporal doesn't really have the _authority_ to make those kinds of decisions." He spared a moment to glare at Baird who just shrugged and looked down at his gun which had suddenly become incredibly interesting. "But since I'm feeling charitable, we can work something out depending on just how much use you are to me."

"No way. Last time one of our people trusted the COG he ended up in a thousand pieces on the ocean floor. I want my own boat and a free ride out. When I'm out of rifle range, I'll tell you where to find your man. Once he's dead, I'll move back in, take care of any mutinous assholes and retake what's rightfully mine." Ollivar said.

Baird looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Actually, technically your buddy who got a torpedo up his ass was _not_ the COG's fault. And also technically, the _last_ time your people trusted the COG, we helped save your asses from the glowies."

"You mean we helped you," Ollivar shot back.

"Say it however you want to, but the fact is the last time we all played nice for the greater good, it turned out just fine for you. It's Stranded fucking up your party this time; not the COG." Baird said, all matter-of-factly. He knew he was right, and he waved it in Ollivar's face as much as he could.

Marcus made his way back over with Cole just behind him. Ollivar eyed him warily as he answered Baird. "Since no one here plans on trusting the other, how exactly do you suggest we proceed?"

"I've got a few ideas." Marcus said evenly. Ollivar narrowed his eyes at him, but wisely stayed silent.

Hoffman had taken a step back. "What I _suggest _is that you tell us who took over your fleet, and where to find him, and when we take care of him we'll take half of your fleet and leave you the rest, and your people. Anyone who wants to rejoin the civilized world in the face of the Locust extinction is more than welcome to talk it over with us, and if not, that's no skin off my ass. We go our separate ways with a truce and stay the hell away from each other as much as possible."

Ollivar wasn't impressed. "Half?! Half?! Fuck that, and fuck you." Ollivar spat on the ground at Hoffman's feet. "You want me to hand you the guy killing all your people and you are gonna reward me with _half_ of _my_ shit? No way."

"_My_ men will be the ones out there taking care of _your_ problem. Call it the cost of doing business. It's a reasonable offer, and the only one you're going to get," Hoffman said.

Hitching his bag up over his shoulder Ollivar turned towards the gate to the fort. "I'll do better on my own, and then you can settle this with me once I get _my_ people back."

Marcus reached forward and caught him by the arm. He met his eyes with a cold stare, all but daring him to move any further. "Unless I've forgotten how to count, I don't see you making it anywhere near that gate. So let's all be civilized and logical. Take the deal, or take a bullet. It doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me." He let go of Ollivar and crossed his arms, glancing around to the others before turning his eyes back to him.

Ollivar's shoulders sagged a little. He took his eyes off of Marcus and looked at Hoffman. "That's really all I'll get for my trouble?"

Hoffman shrugged. "Last chance. You've got ten seconds before I ship you back to _your people _in a body bag."

There was a heavy silence. Ollivar hung his head. "Fuck it. Fine."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." Baird said.

"I said fucking 'fine', damnit." He shook his head and curled his lip up in a snarl. "You bastards can take half the fucking fleet. It'll be worth it to get that mother fucker's head on a plate."

"And which mother fucker would that be?" Cole asked, still keeping a close eye on Marcus.

"Griffin. Aaron Griffin. Name ring any bells?"

Marcus tensed again and Cole took a step closer to him as he leaned in closer to Ollivar. "Oh, I think I know him. And I already know where he is. So now I need you to tell me why we still need you."

Ollivar started to smile for a moment before he realized Marcus was serious. "And how did you happen to figure out where he was? Lucky guess?"

"Not all of _his_ people are built to handle interrogation. Wanna ask what we did with them when we didn't need _them_ anymore?" Marcus kept his voice low and even. There was no question that there was truth in his words.

That was all it took for the last of the confidence to evaporate from his features. His assumption that the COG was above brutal interrogation and torture suddenly became incorrect, and that was enough to have him squirming in front of them. He put his arms up and took a step away from Marcus. "Shit man, hold on. I can still tell you where the boats were docking. And you're gonna want somebody you can trust running that fleet, right?"

"And tell me how that describes you," Baird said. Ollivar was still staring up at Marcus, trying to work out his best angle for appeal.

"I can get you fuel. All the fuel you need. We found an Imulsion field. I'll tell you where it is."

Cole laughed, earning a wide eyed look from Ollivar. He looked at Baird. "Shit, guess he never figured out exactly how that fancy ass bomb worked." Looking back to Ollivar he was still chuckling a little. "That fuel was a _parasite_, man. Anything unrefined is gone. Anyone looking to trade on raw juice is gonna be in for one shitty surprise."

Ollivar went white. He looked entirely unfocused for a brief moment as he tried to wrap his head around this new information.

"Didn't you figure that out? A good businessman knows where his merchandize comes from. You never bothered to check the field after the bomb went off?" Baird was amused by the oversight.

"I never had _time_, dickhead. Griffin showed up a few days before the bomb went off with a small group of guys. They jumped our crew and tossed us all overboard. I'm the only one that survived, and barely. His guys took over the fleet and moved back into their old city. With control over the fleet he was able to make runs to the imulsion fields we had just found and start rebuilding his trade connections again." Apparently the shock of the news about the fuel combined with the very realistic fear of imminent death had set Ollivar's mouth into overdrive. Baird wasn't about to stop him. He just mentally stored everything he was hearing for future use.

"How exactly do you know all this? Seeing as you weren't around to hear the news yourself" Marcus said.

Ollivar sighed impatiently. "News travels fast between camps. A couple of folks ran when they realized someone new had taken over. There's still some loyalty, you know. But most stayed because the instinct to survive overpowered the desire to be loyal to someone you think is dead."

"Like roaches. Survival becomes the most important thing." Baird said.

Ollivar glared at him. "It got us this far."

"I've noticed you still haven't come up with a good answer to the Sergeant's question." Anya had finally spoken up, all business and solidarity.

Running through every possible bit of leverage he could think of, Ollivar's eyes darted between the Gears surrounding him. He seemed to realize he was rapidly running out of options.

Suddenly a short series of beeps broke the silence. Jack was hovering behind Anya. The bot propelled itself forward and the screen folded down. The red dot was still blinking, but had come to a stop. Anya smiled.

"Looks like we've found your fleet," she said.

Ollivar looked ill.

"So I'm going to ask you one last time," Hoffman came in close to Ollivar and his hand went to his pistol. "What use are you to me now?" Anya wasn't sure if the gesture was just for show or if Hoffman was making a conscious effort _not_ to shoot him.

Baird spoke from somewhere behind him. "I don't think we can trust him anyhow, sir. May as well just take all the garbage out together."

Ollivar met Hoffman's eyes, his face desperate and pale. "Look, you know those folks are never gonna trust you. Even if- I mean, even after you kill Griffin. They know me. They _respect_ me. You're going to want me there to keep the peace."

"The man has a point." Cole said. He still didn't feel good about killing unarmed people.

Baird made a snorting sound and shook his head. "Pushover." He had no respect for the promises of a man at the end of his rope.

Hoffman considered the proposition carefully. He was grateful Bernie wasn't there in his ear whispering how people would think he was too lenient; too soft.

"Fine. But the terms of the agreement will be decided on beforehand. And if I get even a _hint_ that you've gone back on it, I'll kick in every door I have to until I find your sorry ass and I'll kill you myself. Got it?"

Some of the confidence had returned to Ollivar's face. He seemed satisfied that he wasn't about to get shot in the heart, at least not immediately. While the prospect of joining forces with the COG yet again sickened him to his very core, the prospect of imminent death was far less appealing. In a time of survival, he had been an expert. And he survived by adapting. The circumstances were rarely his top choice, and though this fell about as near to the bottom of the list of things he'd like to be doing, he was never a foolish man. There was no denying the best option, no matter how unsavory, was the one that didn't end in certain death.

"Alright, Colonel." It looked like it physically pained him to say 'colonel' without a sneer. "Let's talk terms."

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Happy Thursday! This chapter was pretty short, but the next one's a bit longer so it will even itself out. I love all the feedback I've been getting, and I just like to check in and thank everyone a million times for it. You guys are awesome, and you help inspire me to keep working at it. So, again, thanks. :-)**


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23:**

"Aw, shit. Mom and Dad are fighting again." Cole nudged Baird's arm and jerked his head toward the open garage door.

Baird looked up from the engine of the packhorse to see Hoffman and Bernie standing outside of the building where their quarters were. Bernie was making agitated gestures and Hoffman kept shaking his head.

"Old people are cranky." He put his head back under the hood. "Just go put your head under a pillow and when they make nice they can bake you some cookies or something." He stuck he hand out. "Give me that wrench, will you?"

Cole dropped it into his hand and chuckled. "And you say old people are cranky."

Dropping down from the table he'd taken a seat on, he made his way over to the door and leaned against the frame. "Think I should go over there and tell them their fighting is damaging my fragile self-esteem?"

"Only if you want Granny to hit _you._ And I speak from experience when I say that is _not_ fun. Just let them work it out." There was a loud clank from the car engine and liquid starting pouring onto the floor. "Fuck. Fuck…_fuck_." Baird started frantically moving things around in the engine. "Go do whatever you want. Just quit distracting me, will yah?"

Cole just chuckled as he walked away. "Careful. He's in a pissy mood," he said. Baird looked up to see who he was talking to.

"When isn't he?" Marcus had come up to the door and looked over to Baird. "Got a minute?"

He was asking Baird, so Cole took the hint to make himself scarce. "I'll go see if I can save Hoffman from the shit storm he's catching."  
"You've always had a way with the ladies, Cole. Even the old ones." Baird had managed to stop the leak and was mopping up fluid with a dirty rag.

Marcus came to his side and peered down into the engine. Baird shot him a questioning look. "Don't tell me you know your way around an engine too?"

Marcus grunted. "I've made field repairs before."

"Your wealth of knowledge never fails to astound me." Baird said. He was still aggravated with the engine and was clearly going to take it out on whoever decided to be in the same room with him.

Marcus wouldn't take the bait. "That disc," he started, steamrolling over the instigation.

"Prescott's? What about it?"

"No, the one my father gave you." Marcus said.

Baird stood, wiping his hands on the rag as he spun around and leaned against the bumper of the truck. "What about it?" He eyed Marcus carefully.

"Have you looked at it yet?"

Baird shook his head. "No. Haven't really had time. I mean, I skimmed through it to see if there was anything about a replacement for the miracle fuel, but it was just a bunch of journal type stuff."

He couldn't tell if Marcus looked disappointed or angry. "I'm not friggin' Anya, ok? You're gonna have to tell me what you want me to say here."

He got the hard stare as a response. _Ok, definitely angry._

"Do you know how to _not_ be an asshole?" Marcus grumbled. "Just give me the damn thing, alright? Unless you think it's too _technical_ for a grunt like me."

Baird reached into his chest pocket, the same one he'd kept the stolen disc in for all those months, and extended his arm out. "No one ever taught you to say please?"  
Marcus grabbed the disc and looked it over. "I wouldn't have lived this long if asking nicely was always my first move." Tucking the disc into his chest plates he looked back up at Baird. "But thanks, dickhead."

"Yeah, yeah. Just let me know if you find anything important on there. But I gotta ask; why'd you wait this long to get it from me?"

Marcus shrugged. "I figured you'd hand it over eventually anyhow. But if there's nothing helpful on there I may as well look it over."

"You really think you should?" Baird asked. He found himself considering the amount of time Marcus had been in there. By his calculations, this was now officially the longest conversation they'd ever had. _And I'm trying to offer him advice? What the fuck is the matter with me?_

"I think I have to." The words were heavy. He used the word 'think', but there was no doubt; just determination. Marcus felt bound by some sort of unwritten duty to know everything he could about what his father had done and why he'd done it.

Baird knew the basics of why Marcus had went to prison by now. He'd pieced together the fact that he had left his post to save his father and that they'd lost a battle because of it. He knew that he didn't hesitate for a moment when it came time to arrange another rescue mission to Azura to save his father yet again. There was a sick devotion that Baird just couldn't wrap his head around. But then again, his childhood had been less than ideal. There was no love lost between Baird and his parents. He couldn't picture himself dropping _anything_ to save them, let alone abandoning Gears to do it. He wondered if he should envy Marcus or pity him.

"You know, I think you may finally have taken my place at the top of the 'most fucked up family dynamic' list." Baird said.

Marcus grunted. Baird wasn't sure if he was agreeing or just trying to avoid the topic.

"Kinda funny when you think about it. Here we are, survivors of the end-times, and somehow through all the bullshit, two of the founding families have sons to carry on the fantastic fucking legacy they left behind." Baird was looking past Marcus now, caught somewhere between bitterness and amusement.

"Downright poetic," Marcus said, but he didn't sound like he meant it. He looked past Baird at the engine. "I'll let you get back to torturing the pack." He patted his chest plate where the disc was resting. "Thanks."

"Right." The unusual sincere gratitude made him uncomfortable, and coming from Marcus it was such an alien concept it had him squirming. "You may wanna go make sure Granny didn't take a chunk of out Cole because he stepped in the middle of it."

"I'll do that." Marcus said as he made his way out the door.

Baird threw himself back into the engine for less than five minutes before a light knock came from the direction of the door.  
"I'm gonna start charging a friggin' admission…" He looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, sporting a fresh bandage.

"You could have done that when your 'office' was a bathroom stall. This is rather cushy by comparison," she said.

"I already kicked Cole out. Don't start," he shot back.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." She came over and leaned against the workbench behind him, glancing over the tools that had been spread out. "What's wrong with the truck?"

"It was making some depressing sounds when Dizzy had to speed up. You really come in to talk about the truck?" He didn't bother looking at her; he knew the answer.

"Cole said you guys were nearly fragged," she said carefully.

"'Nearly' would be accurate. And?" he replied, stretching to tighten something in the engine.

"So much for being careful."

He stood and wiped the wrench off with the rag before slamming the hood of the truck. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll ask the assholes to miss the truck when they're trying to kill us. And then you won't have anything to nag me about. What will you do then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shit. Can't you just say 'I'm fine, thanks', and then I can say 'good, because I was worried'? You know, like regular people?"

Baird turned and leaned back against the bumper. "I'm fine, ok? More fine than you." He nodded towards her shoulder.

"Good, you asshole. I'm glad you're ok. And for your information, I'm fine too." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Good, you crazy bitch," he said, completely straight faced.

She burst into laughter. "Shit, we're both completely insane, aren't we?"

Even he couldn't help but smile.

"I thought we already figured that out." He dropped the wrench onto the work bench and turned for the door. "Come on. Hoffman's probably gotten an earful by now. It should be safe to check in and see when we're going to Char to bring back King Asshole's head on a stick."

Sam followed behind him. "Think Ollivar can really be trusted?"

"My first instinct says 'fuck no', but Stranded are good at surviving. He'll play his best odds, and right now that means helping us. We just have to make sure he knows that that is _always_ his best option." He said.

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of muscle to enforce the rules." Sam replied thoughtfully as they made their way across the open area in the center of town. "Assuming Ollivar decides to stay on the mainland. What if he decides to play pirates again?"

"Then we get the navy running again." Baird said.

"I'm sure you're salivating over the idea of being in a sub again," she said, smirking over at him.

"It's a tight fit, but definitely worth the hassle." He paused before smirking back. "But then again I could say the same thing about you."

She punched him in the arm, but laughed. "You know if Mataki hears you talking like that, she'll wash your mouth out with carbolic soap."

"No, she'd deck me again. And speaking of Granny, she knows about…whatever this is," he said, waving his finger between the two of them and waiting for her reaction.

She sighed and shook her head with a half-smile on her face. "Who's the gossipy housewife?"

"I think technically speaking, it'd be you. But she's awfully observant in her old age. I think she just put it all together."

Sam came to a stop at the back of an empty packhorse parked in front of Hoffman's building. Bernie and Hoffman had either finished their argument or decided to finish it in private. Either way they were nowhere in sight. Leaning against the back of the flatbed, Sam swept her eyes over the small town. The sun was setting, and the evening had brought many of the families out of their houses in search of food or company. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply.

Baird's voice broke her thoughts. "Uh, Sam?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling like she'd let her mind wander for longer than she realized. He stared impatiently at her as she started to speak.

"Sorry, blondie. Just feeling a bit nostalgic. I haven't been here since I was a girl. Not without glowies trying to fuck up my day, anyway. I never knew I'd missed it until I got back. Now?" She sighed and smiled. "Now it feels like home. But it didn't even feel like home when I lived here. Why is that?"

Baird rubbed his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly trying to find the right thing to say. The emotional conversation path had him uncomfortably silent.

"Do you miss Jacinto?" Sam asked.

He had to pause to consider if he wanted to go with the answer he thought she'd want to hear, or the truth. He opted for honesty.

"No. I think it sucks that we had to sink the whole damn city and it still didn't kill all the friggin' grubs, but I don't miss the actual city. I don't really get attached to places. You get used to going where you're needed. Hell, even if my family's house was still standing I doubt I'd go back." He had taken a place next to her and was staring straight ahead. "Give me a well-stocked vehicle bay, some computers, and some tools and I can make anywhere home."

Sam tilted her head slightly, sparing him a glance before looking back out at the people milling around. "You think you'll go back to Azura?"

"Probably," he said. "With all the shit the professor left behind I'm sure my skills will come in handy."

"And you can't resist the urge to play with all the toys," Sam said. It was almost a question, but it never quite reached the inflection.

"You know how much money they put into that place? They probably have shit there _I_ never even thought of." He looked over at her and smirked. "Maybe even a taser attachment for a rat-bike."

She smiled thoughtfully. "You'll have to let me know if you find one."

"Sure, I'll find that in the middle of solving all the rest of the world's problems. Then you can cruise around the island on it electrocuting people who don't listen."

She stared at him for a moment, and her brow furrowed.

"What?" He stared back trying to figure out what he'd said to piss her off. _Damn, and I was just getting good at this playing nice thing._

"I don't know if I want to go back." She said it so quietly he'd barely heard her. For a second he thought she hadn't even said it. Then he just wondered _why_ she had said it.

"You're staying here?" he asked, sounding a little colder than he intended.

"I think so. Maybe." She paused before dropping her eyes to the ground. "I don't know. Last time we were here we were dealing with the locust, and the lambent. I didn't really have time to think about it. Now that I'm here again…" her voice trailed off. Even she wasn't sure how she wanted to end that sentence.

"Why are you telling me this?" He had turned his eyes forward again and he could feel a familiar resentment building up inside him.

"I don't know if it will change anything, " she began, still nearly inaudible.

"_Shit_. I _told_ Granny before. I fucking told her. You take someone like me and start treating me like a house-pet, and then when I get shoved back out in the yard, I'm the one left staring back in the window while everyone else goes about their business." His voice was bitter, and the words stung.

"Damon..."

"Just don't, ok?" He stood up and gestured across the field. "Fenix is coming. Just drop it."

Marcus was making his way over from The Mess, followed by Anya. He nodded towards them in acknowledgement, and as a way of telling them to stay put.

Sam whispered from behind Baird. "We're not done talking about this."

"Uh-huh." He mumbled quietly. Raising his voice as Marcus and Anya got close enough to hear, he spoke. "So did Granny manage to rip Hoffman's balls off yet?"

"She's not happy about letting Ollivar have part of his fleet back, but I think Hoffman finally got through to her." Marcus said. He cast a careful look at Sam. "How's the arm?"

"It's getting tired of people asking how it is," she grumbled. "But it's fine. Thanks." She stood and looked back towards the town hall they'd been bunking in. "I'm turning in. If anything comes up, radio me."

As she got out of ear shot Anya shot a look at Baird. "Everything alright?"

"Fucking peachy. What's going on with Griffin?" The usual sarcasm was replaced with a bitterness that Anya wasn't used to hearing from him.

She didn't believe him for a second, but decided she'd have an easier time getting answers from Sam later. "Hoffman is talking to Ollivar now, pounding out the specifics. From what I picked up, we'll get our orders tomorrow."

"Good. Then I'm gonna go finish fixing that friggin' truck." Baird stalked off towards the garage without looking back.

"Gee, he seems cheerful." Anya said.

"How can you tell?" Marcus replied. "Come on. I want to check on Rossi, and I'm friggin' starving." He wasn't about to discuss someone else's relationship troubles.

"Have you seen Alex since then?" She asked, following along behind him towards the medical bay.

"No." He didn't sound disappointed, either. They had only worked together once but there was clearly no significant attachment between them beyond the strong bond of being a Gear. Whether it was the rank they shared or the unfortunate bad first impressions they'd gotten of each other there was still some lingering resentment between them.

"She still wants to come to Char with us," Anya said carefully.

"That's Hoffman's choice," Marcus responded.

"Are you alright with that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not up to me."

"He never ordered you to come here. You decided it was best, and he was grateful for the help," she said.

"We came because he needed the help. We're Gears. We've spent this much time trying to save the planet, why stop now?" he responded slowly. "Just because the enemy changed doesn't mean the objective has."

They came to the doors of the medical building and she paused as he held one open for her. Meeting his eyes she spoke. "You know he'd appreciate your input. Just because you're both sergeants doesn't mean he won't put your preference over hers. He put you in charge in Jilane, and she _knew_ that place. We know Char, and we know Griffin. He'll want you running this."

Marcus stared at her silently for a moment, blinking slowly, still holding the door.

She stared right back, searching his face for any clue as to what he was thinking. _Oh hell, might as well say it. _"You're not going to be a sergeant forever. Hoffman's not getting any younger. You're going to have to get used to giving orders, too."

His eyes widened slightly, but beyond that there was no indication that he'd even heard what she'd said. Maybe that hadn't been the direction he'd expected her to go with that train of thought after all. She briefly regretted saying it, but before she could begin to attempt to recover from it he spoke.

"Is that what you think? That I'm after a promotion?" He looked as near to incredulous as she'd ever seen him.

"No, no. That's not what I'm saying." He'd relaxed a little when she said that, but his eyes were still piercing through hers. "No one thinks that. It's just that after everything we've all been through, you'd be the best choice. If he keeps this pace up he's going to get himself killed. He's going to have to step down, even if Bernie has to shoot him in the knee herself."

A nurse squeezed between them, shooting them each a quizzical glance before heading towards the housing sector. Anya immediately felt guilty that she'd chosen this particular moment to have this conversation. She walked ahead of him inside the building and pulled off into a corner out of the way of the minimal foot traffic. He followed behind and stood in front of her, waiting patiently for her to finish her train of thought.

"Look, let's just go see Rossi. We'll worry about the administrative stuff later. I can't help that that's where my mind goes," she said. "Too many years in CIC, I guess. Spend enough time behind a desk and you can start predicting who's getting promoted and when."

He came close to smiling at her, almost like he'd had a fond but fleeting memory.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he shook his head a little. "Just that no one would ever believe you were ever stuck behind a desk if no one had proof."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I don't think there's a written record of who was in CIC and when. We managed to keep track of Gears, though. So who knows?"

He slipped his hand under his chest plate and pulled a small slip of paper out and held it out to her. Reaching out cautiously, she flipped it over and examined it carefully. The writing had faded from the envelope long ago. It had gotten rubbed off from being pressed between his chest and armor plates for years. He stared at her silently as she opened the envelope and slid out a picture.

The edges were worn, and the picture was slightly creased, but the image was still clear enough to recognize. A much younger Marcus was staring off to the side, and a much younger Anya sat at a desk in front of him. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly dropped the envelope.

"You kept it?" Her voice was a low whisper as she stared down at the picture pressed between her fingers. When she had sent it to him all those years ago she never expected to get it back. She wasn't even sure he'd gotten it. It was the only picture she'd had of them together, but she felt it was worth the sacrifice to send him a beacon of hope in a dark place. Now she was left speechless, staring down at the picture like it would disappear if she dared to take her eyes off of it.

He shrugged. "There's your proof." On the surface it seemed he was referring to her years behind the desk, but when she finally managed to meet his eyes she knew he meant more than the simple explanation. The picture served as proof of everything. Anything anyone had ever questioned about their relationship; there was the proof that she was right to hold out hope, and the proof that it was never for nothing. While she took pride in her faith never wavering, she now had the evidence that she had been right to keep believing in him. In them. He had never lost faith either, and the proof was staring back up at her in the form of a faded photograph.

He waited as she gathered her thoughts. She took one last look at the photo before slipping it delicately back into the envelope and offering it out to him. He took it and tucked it gently back under his armor, like he'd done it a thousand times. The swift certainty of the movement reminded her of Dom, nearly pushing her past the point of quiet composure.

"You _kept_ it." She whispered again, like she hadn't really said it the first time.

"Yeah, and you waited." He met her eyes again. "So we both keep our promises."

She found herself wishing she'd chosen a more private place to have this conversation yet again as a pair of nurses walked past, chatting happily about their families.

As silence filled the hallway that had once again become empty Anya stared up at him, completely unable to move. This would be the moment in a movie where two lovers would wrap their arms around each other and share a passionate kiss, regardless of their surroundings. The heart swelling emotion would have been overpowering to the point that it didn't matter who was watching.

But some habits were impossible to break. She smiled and nodded once, and he nodded back. There was no overtly romantic swept-up-in-his-arms gesture, but they didn't need one. In a matter of minutes they'd done more to seal their faith and love for each other than most couples managed in an entire life time. Nothing else was necessary.

"Come on," she started, still partially unwilling to break the moment. "We still have to go see Rossi."

* * *

Drew Rossi wasn't one to let a simple thing like a near death experience bring him down. When Anya made her way into his hospital room she could hear him laughing quietly before she'd come through the door.

Alex was sitting in a chair next to him with her feet up on the bed. He was lying there looking incredibly cheerful despite the handful of machines and IVs he was hooked up to.

"Ahh, there's everyone's favorite secret couple." Rossi's voice was a little hoarse, but just from hearing his tone there was no way to know something was even wrong with him.

Anya smiled and rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too. How're you holding up?"

"Doc says I'll make a full recovery."

Alex snorted from behind him. "Yeah, he also said you'd have to avoid strenuous activity to make that recovery. You're gonna leave half the town's women awfully pissed."

Anya shot Alex a curious look. It wasn't the response she'd expected from her. With the way Alex had reacted when Rossi had been injured, she'd thought for sure they had become more than just squad mates.

"Aren't you two..?" she started.

Alex burst into laughter. "Fuck no." She gave Rossi an amused once-over. "I mean, I get why women don't kick him out of bed, but no. We've got a real brother-sister thing going on."

"Yeah, it's adorable. We have matching shirts." Rossi's laugh turned into a cough and he winced. "Shit, sorry. I'm a terrible host." He turned his head to look at Marcus. "Alex told me about Dom…I'm sorry, man. Really."

Marcus tensed up. "Yeah, I keep hearing that. But thanks."

"I'm not gonna dwell on it, but when I get out of here, you and me are having a few drinks, and I'm telling you all the shit I never did about him." He tried to sit up a little, but failed miserably. Alex leaned in and fluffed his pillow, leaving Anya staring at her with wide eyes. In the little time she'd known her, Alex had never been the motherly type. Whatever sibling type bond they had built, Alex had definitely understated its strength.

Marcus grunted and gave him a slight nod. He'd had enough discussion of the topic for now. The wound was still fresh and he'd had enough of people reminding him of it.

"Yeah. We'll do that." He eyed Rossi carefully. At the very least he knew he had faith in his own recovery. People did strange things when they thought their death was just around the corner. Usually spilling your guts about all the things you never told someone was pretty high on the list. If Rossi thought it could wait, he must have been doing alright. Or at least as alright as he could be with a hole in his chest.

A soft knock came on the door. A small woman in a clean white nurse's uniform poked her head in the door. "Visiting hours are over." She glanced between Marcus, Anya and Alex trying to work out who would be the most receptive. She settled for Anya. "Doctor's orders, ma'am." She looked apologetic, but tried to sound firm. "You can come back in the morning but the sergeant needs his rest."

Alex had said something quietly to Rossi and patted his forearm, careful to avoid the bandages, before following Marcus and Anya out into the hallway. She fell in next to Anya, choosing the furthest position from Marcus that she could.

"So when are we shipping out?" Alex always chose the blunt option.

"I take it you heard about our little truce?" Anya answered.

Alex scoffed. "Yeah. Slimy bastard is lucky it's not up to me or we'd be hanging him from the front gate as a warning to all the other scumbags." Apparently Alex had joined into the school of thought that all Stranded were the same. To her it didn't seem to matter that Ollivar wasn't running the gangs harassing the citizens at Anvil Gate. As far as she was concerned, he may as well have shot Rossi himself.

"Hoffman's choice." Marcus muttered quietly.

"Let me guess; you're fine with it?" she said, her voice dripping with contempt.

"It's the right choice. We don't have an issue with Ollivar," he answered evenly.

Alex clearly disagreed, but decided against voicing her discontentment any further. There was still a part of her that was uncertain if Hoffman would allow her to go along, and she knew having a heated argument over it in the middle of the hospital with another sergeant was a sure fire way to get stuck at base.

They had made their way out into the open center of town again, and the sun had finally gone down. Candles burned in lampposts scattered around the area and warm light shone from some of the windows of the occupied homes. Alex had said her goodbyes after getting a promise from Anya that she'd be invited to the sitrep in the morning.

As Marcus and Anya strode into the town hall yet again, most of the others had beaten them there. Cole, Jace and Carmine were in the small rec room laughing and carrying on and the sound was blissfully refreshing. Sam was curled up on the couch reading a terribly worn copy of some classic novel, and Baird was nowhere in sight.

As Marcus began the slow process of taking his armor off and stowing it under his cot, Anya came over to join Sam. She sat on the opposite end of the couch and stared expectantly, waiting for Sam to look up. When she finally did, she looked more agitated than anything else.

"You wanna talk about it?" Anya prodded gently.

"Not really, but I doubt that's going to get me out of it." She cast a glance to Marcus who had come back from the kitchen with a ration bar and a cup of coffee. Placing the cup on the floor next to the bunk he settled in on his back, chewing slowly, and purposefully avoiding looking over. It was his not-so-subtle way of telling them he wasn't listening.

Sam sighed. "Fine, but you're just going to tell me I'm an idiot."

"We all are. Let's just figure out how much."


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24:**

Baird had wandered in and collapsed into his cot sometime in the middle of the night, still covered in grease and whatever else the engine had spewed on him. He'd done the typical Baird thing and thrown himself into a mechanical problem to take his mind off of his other ones.

Anya had woken first. The sun wouldn't be up for some time, but she'd had enough of staring up at the ceiling. She found herself in the kitchen making coffee just to pass the time until the others woke up. Heavy footsteps from behind her made her turn, expecting to see Marcus standing in the kitchen doorway after waking up for the thousandth time.

The freedom he'd had on Azura to go out onto the balcony every time he woke up wasn't available here. Anya had considered asking Hoffman to put him up in his own room, but she knew Marcus would never hear of it. Instead he settled for wandering around the small building, flipping through books without actually reading them.

But instead of Marcus, there stood a foggy-eyed Baird who'd come to an abrupt stop when he realized she was there.

"Shit, don't you ever sleep?" He rubbed his hand over his face before helping himself to the coffee pot.

"Trying to make an early escape?" She took a seat at the small table, sipping her own cup slowly.

"Let me guess; you talked to Sam," he muttered. Turning to face her, he leaned against the sink and took a long drink. "You gonna tell me I'm being an asshole, too?"

"Too?"

"Cole," he said. "Everybody's got their opinion. I just wish you'd keep it to yourselves."

Anya and Baird never really had a friendly relationship. They'd worked together plenty of times, but beyond that their relationship tended to be strictly professional. She wasn't really sure how to proceed with him. He'd always been a smug, sarcastic son of a bitch, and trying to imagine him in any sort of relationship with anyone was nearly impossible. But here she was trying to figure out what words to say to comfort him and feeling like she was doing a terrible job.

"Look, Baird…" she began. He gave her a steely glare but kept his mouth shut. "I'm not going to tell you what to do with your personal life-"

"Good."

"_But_, a friendly piece of advice?"

He shrugged and took another long drink with that look that said he was only humoring her.

"Pull your head out of your ass," she said.

He raised an eyebrow and frowned. It was not at all what he'd expected to hear from her.

She continued, leaving him no opening to interrupt. "Whatever it is you've got going on, it's clearly important or you wouldn't have cared that much." He opened his mouth to talk but she held up a hand to stop him. "Just figure out what it is you want, and tell her. If you ask her to, she'll go with you."

He stared at her incredulously, but stayed quiet for a long moment. Finally, he muttered under his breath. "I liked you better when you were on the other side of a bot."

She chuckled softly. "Go ahead and change the subject, but you know I'm right."

There was a rustling from the other room. Baird looked up at the doorway expecting someone to come through any second. "I'm gonna go take a friggin' shower and get this shit off of me. Radio me when the senior citizens are ready for the meeting."

Cole came through the door and gave Baird a once over. "Damon, baby, you look like somethin' that fell out of an exhaust pipe."

"Gonna give me a lecture on hygiene? Don't worry, mom. I'll go get cleaned up." He walked past Cole, turning sideways to fit by in the cramped kitchen.

"Yeah, don't forget to get under your nails." He said quietly, careful not to wake the others as Baird made his way out into the main room. They heard the main door shut quietly and he laughed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "You get any sleep, ma'am?"

"Some," she said softly. "You?"

"Like a log. It's a gift." He smiled his big Cole Train smile, but she knew he was lying at least a little bit. On the surface he always seemed to have an easier time of it than most of the others, but she knew that beneath the surface Cole was like any other seasoned Gear. He was just as troubled as the rest of them. He just did a better job of hiding it most of the time.

"You manage to get through to the blonde genius?" he asked suddenly.

She cocked her head to the side. "You were listening?"

He shrugged a little. "The Cole Train don't miss a thing."

"I guess we'll find out." Anya stared into her cup for a moment before looking back up at him. "Is it wrong that part of me wants to sic Bernie on him?"

Cole laughed a little louder than he meant to before he caught himself and quieted down. "Let's save Boomer Lady as a last resort, ok? I'd hate to see what she'd do to him."

Anya laughed quietly before tilting her head in the direction of the door. She could hear movement in the main room again, but that didn't necessarily mean anyone had woken up. Gears were restless sleepers. She caught herself realizing that she'd fit into that category now. Checking her watch she sighed heavily. "We've still got an hour until sunrise. We really should be sleeping."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee he took the seat across from her at the table. The already small table looked comically inadequate in front of him. "When all this shit is over, I'll sleep for a week." He was smiling, but the words were heavy.

Sometimes it seemed they'd lost track of just how long they'd been fighting. Compared to an entire lifetime, sixteen years didn't seem like that long. But when you put it into context; the years of the Pendulum Wars that were pressed right up against E-Day, and the percentage of their lives they'd spent in war times, the realization was incredibly sobering.

The entire planet had been so ravaged by the seemingly endless war there was little left of the human population, and everyone knew it. But the folks left were strong, _hearty_ even. There was a vigor among them that was unmistakable. These people survived the Pendulum Wars, the locusts, the hammer strikes, and the lambent. They had managed to escape waves upon waves of new enemies and somehow come out on top.

But when she really thought about the quality of life they'd had over the past sixteen years, Anya found herself sadly shaking her head. Sure, the humans had managed to survive the war and come out victorious, but at what cost? The Gears were _damaged_, and that was putting it mildly. Even the civvies were riddled with mental and physical problems after years or terror and malnutrition. And now when they'd _finally_ reached the end of the war that had nearly caused the extinction of the human race and global destruction, here they were at war yet again.

Sometimes Anya wondered if humans knew how to do anything else.

"You think it will ever be over, Cole?" She was staring down at her cup again, afraid to hear the answer.

He made a _tsk_ sound and tapped his hand on the table to get her to look up. "Baby, I _know_ it will be over. We didn't make it this far to give up now. Don't you start talking that way. If there's one thing I learned in all this, it's that you gotta have some _faith_." The typically cheerful Cole had become briefly solemn, and the image was astounding.

He reached his hand out and put it over hers, patting it once before pushing himself back up to stand. "I'm gonna go shut my eyes for a while. You oughta give it a try, too," he said, setting his empty up in the sink before heading back to his cot.

Anya crossed her arms in front of her and rested her head on them. She mentally promised herself it was just for a moment. It wasn't long before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Her first instinct told her to go for her sidearm, but she quickly reminded herself she was in a building surrounded by other Gears. She sat up quickly and spun around to see Marcus standing over her.

"Table more comfortable than the bunk?"

"No. I just came in for coffee," she looked down at her watch and groaned. "Over an hour ago. Shoot. Is everyone else up yet?"

He shook his head and grabbed the coffee pot, refilling her cup before getting one for himself. "Baird's gone. Sam too. The guys are still out cold." He took the seat across from her and pulled two ration bars from his pants pocket. Sliding one across the table, he ripped his own open and chewed slowly. "Talk to Hoffman yet?"

"Not yet. Talked to Baird, though." She said. "About Sam."

Marcus blew out a long breath. "Let them handle it."

She gave him a knowing smile. "I just gave him a nudge in the right direction. Same thing someone did for you."

In one of their late nights together Marcus had told her what Dom had said to him, or at least the gist of it. It seemed she had taken some cues from him in the never-forget-anything department.

He came close to smiling before he took another bite of the ration bar and gave her a slight nod. "Fair enough."

His focus disappeared for a moment as he pressed his finger to his ear. Anya became suddenly aware that she had forgotten her radio when she woke up.

Marcus spoke gruffly into the radio. "Fenix here...Not yet…Roger that."

She waited patiently for him to drop his hand before speaking. "Hoffman?"

He nodded. "Vehicle bay, oh-nine-hundred. Guess he's tired of us cramming in his office."

That gave them a little over two hours to get themselves together. She put together the pieces that he'd asked if the others were awake yet. If he was giving them the extra time to sleep, Anya figured they'd be shipping out to Char that afternoon. She still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the whole thing.

"You alright?" he asked quietly.

She realized he'd been waiting for a response. "Yeah, sorry. I keep doing that."

"You need to get more sleep," he said.

"Look who's talking," she replied with a slight smile. "Besides, I'm used to never sleeping, remember?"

"Frontline is different than CIC." He had put on his sergeant voice, but it wasn't fooling her. Years of carefully decoding the few words he said had taught her well.

_I'm worried about you._

"I'm fine. Really. As fine as anyone else," she said.

"That's my point. No one is 'fine' these days." He gave her a careful look. "If it weren't for most of the shrinks being dead by now, and if regs were still around, you know every last one of us would be in mandatory counseling again."

In the early days of the locust war, any Gears who'd lost family were obligated to attend grief counseling. Marcus probably would have been sent if he hadn't gone to prison instead. But after the battle at Aspho, Marcus and Anya, along with countless others, had to sit through six weekly hour long sessions of it. They'd been encouraged to share their feelings and taught how to cope, but after so many years of fighting the COG had pretty much given up on the idea that anyone would be able to cope with everything that had happened. If there were any therapists still alive they were probably just as screwed up as everyone else now.

The unwelcome reminder caused her to drop her eyes to the table, squeezing them shut for a moment. She heard a soft rustling and felt his hand rest on hers.

A moment later she heard creaks and shuffling from the next room. Marcus took his hand back and finished off his ration bar before pushing himself up from the table just as Jace wandered into the room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Oh, Anya, you made coffee? Shit, I knew there was a reason you were my favorite." He gave her a playful nudge on the arm as he squeezed past Marcus to get to the coffee pot. Looking back and forth between them, he raised an eyebrow. "I interrupt something?"

Anya offered him a casual smile. "Just the daily competition of who slept the least." Marcus grunted in acknowledgment before slipping out into the main room to get armored up for the day.

Jace chuckled. "Normally I'd say Marcus wins every time, but I think Baird might have him beat for once. I didn't even see him last night."

Dropping her cup in the sink, Anya filled Jace in on the meeting time before heading out to tell Carmine and Cole. She'd have to raise Sam and Baird on the radio. She found herself secretly hoping she'd only have to radio one of them because they'd be together working things out. It took her and Marcus nearly twenty years to reach the point they were at now, and she wondered if Baird or Sam had that kind of patience. But she'd done her part, and the rest was up to them.

* * *

Bernie was crossing the town center, with Mac faithfully following, on her way back to her quarters when she heard Sam call out from behind her.

"Hey, you seen blondie?" She had come out of the vehicle bay and jogged over to catch her.

"Not today. He pulled a late one, though. The lights were on in there all night," she replied, nodding her head towards the garage. Noticing Sam's skepticism, she continued. "Us old folks wake up a lot."

"Uh-huh…" Sam was glancing around again, clearly not focused on the conversation.

"Something going on I should know about?" Bernie asked.

"No." She paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Hit me." Bernie crossed her arms and waited patiently.

"Do you think anyone you knew from Galangi is still alive?" Sam asked.

It caught her off guard. The mention of her home town stirred something primal inside of her that even she couldn't identify. She could see the apology written all over Sam's face, but with it was a determination that said she was expecting a specific answer. Bernie just wasn't sure what it was.

She thought it over carefully before responding. "I don't know. But I'd like to think so. It's been so long since we've had contact with any of the islands, so it's impossible to know without going." She eyed Sam carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sam met her eyes, searching for the answer before she could give it. "Would you go back?"

Bernie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to give enough time before responding to show she'd actually thought the answer through.

"No."

It wasn't the answer Sam had expected. Her eyes widened a little, and she tilted her head to the side, waiting for Bernie to explain.

"There's nothing there for me, sweetheart. Not anymore. I'd love to know that they're alright, but at the end of the day, my family is here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Sam seemed to relax as she listened. Maybe she'd gotten the answer right after all. She took her chance to add some levity to the increasingly solemn conversation before it took a turn she wasn't ready for. "Besides, I'm too bloody old to move again. And you know how I feel about water. Not to mention Vic would have to come too, and I don't plan on ever asking him to leave Anvil Gate. I haven't seen him this happy in…hell, ever."

Something shifted in Sam's face and she wondered if she'd somehow botched her explanation. But after a moment, Sam smiled back at her.

"Thanks, Bernie," she said, and it was completely sincere.

"Anytime." She glanced at her watch before looking back to her. "You've still got over an hour before the meeting. Get yourself some breakfast, and you're welcome to the fort showers. This early in the day no one will be over there."

Sam nodded and smiled again as she turned towards the stone area of the city, the old military fort section, seemingly satisfied with what'd she'd heard.

* * *

There were still ten minutes to kill before nine and everyone was becoming anxious. It showed in subtle ways. Jace had bartered a deck of cards from one of the civvies and he, Cole and Carmine were playing on the hood of a packhorse. Cole had already folded with a winning hand twice, and it was clear Jace and Carmine's heads were elsewhere too.

Marcus was being Marcus; all stoic silence. He had taken a place in the passenger seat of the neighboring truck and was letting his legs hang out over the side by the open door. He'd turned down the invitation to play but was watching a little too closely, which just said he wasn't really watching at all.

Anya was at the workbench getting ready to clean her pistol when the door swung open, catching everyone's attention.

Pad strolled through, looking almost cheerful, followed closely by Alex. Marcus eyed the pair of them warily, but it was obvious his trepidation was mostly directed at Alex.

Anya returned her sidearm to its holster before going over to greet them.

"Did you see Hoffman on the way in?" she asked.

"Nah. Princess Blondie is on his way over, though." Alex said, meeting Marcus' eyes with a hint of a frown. She looked back to Anya. "Passed by him on the way from the old barracks. Guess someone finally had enough of the smell and decided to hose him off."

"Thought that's where Sam said she was headed." Jace said. He'd officially given up on his hand.

Anya sighed. "I hope they settled their differences." She said it quietly, mostly to herself but Alex had heard her.

Alex smirked. "Ma'am, if that was Sam with him, I can tell you what I heard wasn't the sounds of two people with differences."

Jace and Cole laughed from behind them, and Carmine slapped his hand on the hood of the truck.

"I _knew_ it!"

"Guess they kissed and made up." Cole said with a grin as he started collecting the cards.

Alex wrinkled her nose. "I really don't want to think about how they made up." She slipped back into her own version of a sergeant voice for a moment. "But as long as it doesn't fuck up the mission, I don't care what they do in their down time."

Anya looked to Marcus briefly. Most people would take a slight offense to another sergeant poking their nose into their squad business, but Marcus just let it go. He never seemed to let those trivial things bother him. At the end of the day, he knew he was in control of his squad. Even though Anya technically outranked him, it had never made a difference in the daily operations. So it never mattered what another sergeant had to say. It's how he'd managed to get along with Bernie so well for so long.

It was a little different with Alex, though. Where Bernie could have offered advice and looked like a caring mother with more experience, Alex would have looked like she was issuing a challenge. But Marcus had dealt with Alex before and he had learned to just let her get it out of her system. He had confidence in her ability to function as part of his squad; she'd proven she was capable already.

"They'll be fine," he said gruffly as he checked his watch.

Alex debated on responding, but ultimately decided against it. She still wasn't sure how much weight Marcus had with Hoffman and didn't want to screw up her chances of coming along. She rolled her eyes and made her way over to the packhorse and held her hand out for the cards. Cole passed them to her and she dealt out four hands.

Pad had come up next to Anya and gave her a light tap on the arm with his elbow. She smiled back, still marveling at how he'd changed so much and yet so little. She scarcely knew where to begin. It'd been so long since they'd really talked, and so much had happened. It seemed like no amount of group dinners and get-togethers would ever be enough to get caught up.

Before she could settle on a topic, the door swung open yet again.

Baird came through first and Sam was right behind him this time. Sam had finally managed to get her armor on, but she didn't look as comfortable as she usually did in it. But it was a step in the right direction, at least; a sign that said she was on the mend. They came to the center of the room, making every effort to look casual. It took one scan of the room to realize that it hadn't mattered.

"What?" Baird asked defensively, even though he knew exactly where this was going. Nearly everyone had that look. That half skeptical, half amused look.

Carmine spoke first. He just couldn't resist. "We were just talking about you guys."

Baird shot an accusing look at Cole. "Was this you?"

Cole put his arms up in mock surrender. "Don't go blamin' me, baby. If you two had done a better job of hiding your business…"

"You always said there had to be a better use for her mouth," Jace said, earning a slight glare from Sam.

Alex cut in. "Hey, Sam. Does he still have the pink shorts, or did he finally find a manlier shade?"

"Assholes, all of you." Baird said. He looked back to Sam, waiting for her to defend him. Instead she just gave him a resigned smile.

"Fuck it." She shrugged and winced a little, hoping no one noticed. "They were gonna know sooner or later."

The pressure to say the right thing was becoming overwhelming. Baird never really did social situations, and he had no idea how to proceed. There was a lingering uncomfortable silence before he heard the door from behind him.

Everyone turned to see Hoffman coming in, followed by Ollivar. Bernie brought up the rear with Mac in tow, both of them keeping an equally close eye on their new companion. No amount of promises would push Bernie over the edge into trusting Ollivar, but at least she'd settled for cautious vigilance instead of voiced anger.

Hoffman had on his work face, and his voice came out as a sharp bark that would have gotten everyone's attention if he hadn't had it already.

"Morning, everyone. I hope you got your sleep, because you're shipping out. Today."

It was exactly what everyone had expected, but no amount of mental preparation would take away the slight rush of adrenaline when you knew you were about to embark on a mission. Anya could feel her heartbeat quicken and the slight shake to her muscles that was her body's way of saying it understood what her mind was feeling. She wondered if any amount of time on the frontline would eliminate the butterflies she seemed to get every single time.

Anya stood up straight and put on her CIC voice. It was an old habit; every time there was a plan to be formulated she found herself visualizing everything in her head again. It was a talent that had served her well over the years. She may not be spending the mission behind a desk directing others, but the planning stage was still entirely too familiar to her.

"Alright, sir. What's the plan?"


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25:**

"I never would have guessed Ollivar would go for that." Sam had leaned forward to get closer to Baird so no one else would hear her.

"I always knew he was cut out for bait." Baird said.

Hoffman had led the parade of them out to the parking area. Ollivar was close behind him still grumbling about the whole ordeal. Whatever they had discussed the night before seemed to have firmly planted Ollivar on the COG's side, but Baird wasn't buying it. It was going to take a lot of convincing for him to trust a Stranded.

Sure, he trusted Dizzy, but Dizzy wasn't a Stranded. He'd taken the opportunity to join the world of the civilized and do his part. Every Stranded had been given the same option. Those who'd chosen to live outside the wire had chosen a life of crime, as far as Baird was concerned. And that was a huge character flaw that told him all he needed to know about a person.

The things you'd agree to do when your life is on the line weren't an indicator of the type of person you'd be after the gun wasn't pointed at your head anymore. Baird hoped Hoffman wasn't stupid enough to forget that. But he hadn't been promoted for nothing, so he had to have some faith in the old bastard.

Jace and Carmine were loading the last crates of ordnance in the back of the two packhorses they'd been given for the trip. Hoffman had given Sam free reign over the storage area and she'd managed to scavenge enough supplies to fit together a proper stash of smoke grenades and even a handful of frags. Everyone took the ammo they could carry, and a spare crate of lancer rounds had been split between the two trucks.

The plan itself was simple; offer up Ollivar as a trade for Griffin to use to set an example to whatever men were still reluctant about their new boss. As soon as Griffin was in grabbing range, turn the tables, snatch and grab, and bang out quick. Throw some smoke for cover if necessary, cut Ollivar loose and hand the reigns of the operation back over to him. Then bring Griffin back to Anvil Gate for whatever sort of trial procedure Gavriel had decided on.

It was one of those things that sounded much simpler in theory than it would be in practice, but the firm framework was a comfort to everyone. There was a relief in having orders that actually seemed achievable for once.

Ollivar had insisted on being given a pistol. Despite Bernie and Baird's protests, Hoffman had agreed. He'd said he'd have to prove himself somehow, and he'd rather him do it before he had a fleet at his disposal. It was logical in its own way, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.

Baird was checking over his armor and gun like he'd done a million times. He started unconsciously shaking his head to himself, lost in his own thoughts.

Cole came up behind him when he wasn't paying attention. "Something wrong, baby? Or you just finally realize that gun ain't never gonna come clean?"

"Just wishing we still had friggin' commandos for shit like this. We weren't built for the stealth option. Kidnapping, extractions, spec ops…Fuck that. We're Gears who rely on brute friggin' strength. I'd feel better if we blew the whole friggin' town up instead."

Marcus had overheard, like everything else. "We're fresh out of _commandos_, so us regular grunts are gonna have to do the hard work." He was adjusted the crates in the back of the truck, purposefully avoiding looking over. It was the only way to clearly signal he didn't expect, or want, a response. He just needed to say it.

It took Baird a moment to realize where the outburst, if you could call it that, came from. He had forgotten Dom had started out as a commando. It was one of those little ancient history things he never bothered to keep in the front of his mind because he'd never needed to. He had known it, but it hadn't even registered in his brain before he'd made the offhanded comment.

_Shit. And we were getting along so well._

He briefly considered apologizing, and that fact alone was a shock. One of those sudden things that hit you and made you realize just how much you'd changed. He opted to just change the subject, knowing Marcus would be nearly as unsettled by an apology as he would.

"Anyone else think it's a little ridiculous that the dumbass went all the way back to his tower? I thought the grub queen did a pretty good job of wrecking the place."

Jace had taken a seat in the flatbed of the packhorse on the right and was doing his kit-check. "It was still standing, just a little crispy. It probably burned itself out. If the tower survived the Hammer strikes it's gotta be pretty damn sturdy."

"Or pretty unstable by now. Wouldn't that be some poetic justice? We get there and find the thing collapsed with Griffin and his buddies buried under a fuck-ton of rubble?" Baird said.

"Sounds good to me. Save us the trouble." Sam said, watching Ollivar carefully. He'd been remarkably silent through the entire exchange. She was doing her best to feel out exactly where his head was. She fell on the side of Bernie and Baird when it came to trusting strangers.

Ollivar caught her staring and flashed her an easy smile. He made a point of checking his pistol for ammo and sighting it up, away from everyone else of course. He was bold, but not stupid. "I'll agree with you there. But I would rather enjoy serving up some justice of my own."

"We're bringing him here. Alive." Marcus said. He had turned to face Ollivar full on, expecting an argument.

Ollivar just chuckled. "All part of the deal, son. But a fella can dream. Besides, Hoffman and I agreed I get to spectate." He looked way more satisfied about that than any sane person should.

Marcus shot Hoffman a wary look, but Hoffman just gave him a subtle nod. It could have been more fodder for a moral debate that neither of them had the time, nor desire, to carry out, but the impending departure served as an excellent deterrent. Now simply wasn't the time.

Sam tossed a short length of rope into the back of the truck Jace was in. "Just be glad it's not up to me or we're have you bound and gagged for the whole trip," she said to Ollivar before climbing into the other truck. She counted her blessings that she'd been assigned to the car he wouldn't be in.

Baird would be driving the truck she was in. She'd be riding shotgun, despite her protests, and Cole, Marcus and Anya had the ride in the back. Alex was driving the other truck with Pad as her passenger, and Carmine, Jace and Ollivar in the back. Hoffman and Anya had brainstormed about the arrangement and had come up with the best possible option, diplomatically speaking. It was the way that seemed to result in the lowest amount of hypothetical violence.

The ride to Char would take a few hours, and they'd have steady radio contact if necessary, but they'd both had the idea to head off any friction before it started. Hoffman had always trusted his Gears to put their jobs first, but this was just part of being a good leader; knowing your squad and how it functioned best.

But he did have to give Anya some of the credit for the foresight.

Hoffman and Bernie had agreed to stay behind. Baird was just grateful Hoffman was finally seeing sense. He'd said that they refused to abandon the fort, and that they needed to stay and run the patrols and operations at the base, but there was no denying they were both chomping at the bit to be part of the action again. As far as Baird was concerned, though, they needed to sit this one out. It'd save everyone worrying about the senior citizens getting their asses blown off. Or at least that's how he looked at it, even if he'd never say it to their faces. He and Bernie had finally reached an understanding and he'd hate to screw it up by prodding her into making a strong protest or tagging along despite her orders. But he figured Hoffman would sooner lock her in a closet than let her come along this time.

He'd even tried to encourage Pad to sit it out, briefly. But Pad pointed out the value of a good sniper who knew the structure of the area, out of earshot of Bernie of course, and Hoffman had reluctantly agreed.

The scene was all too familiar. Marcus climbing up into the truck, pulling Anya up behind him. Waiting for the occupants of the other packhorse to mount up before heading down the long, winding road out of Anvegad.

The memory of the last time they'd been in this position was enough to cause a knot to rise in Anya's throat. She forced herself to swallow it and keep quiet, steeling herself for the trip. She caught Marcus staring at her with that look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. She tried to force a reassuring smile at him. _I'm ok, really._

But she didn't believe it any more than he did.

He turned his eyes forward, staring down the road. The walls slammed down once again.

Hoffman stood beside the truck staring up at Marcus. "You won't have any emergency evac, so if anything goes wrong you get the hell out of there, Fenix. Set an RV point and get back to base." He said it like they didn't already know, but maybe it made him feel better to give a reminder. "I'd keep the radio chatter to a minimum, but you know the fort channel if you need back up. Don't hesitate to call. We've kept two squads on standby and they'll be ready to roll out."

He lowered his voice and nodded his head toward the other truck. "And Ollivar's been given a spare earpiece, set on transmit. I've decided not to share that information with him, but we'll have someone monitoring his channel. If they hear anything even a little off, you'll hear about it."

"You're getting pretty good at this covert stuff, Colonel." Marcus sounded sincere. He looked down at Hoffman briefly before doing a slight jerk of the chin past him. "You've got company."

A small scrap of a woman was jogging across the empty field towards them with a handheld radio. She waved at Hoffman as she slowed her pace, coming to a stop on front of him.

"Everything alright, Tara?"

The young woman stopped to catch her breath before holding the radio out to him. "You're going to want to hear this, sir."

He reached out and took it. Holding the transmit button he spoke quickly. "Hoffman here. Go ahead."

The radio hummed for a moment before a response came. "Colonel Hoffman? Damn good to hear from you, sir." It was Donneld Matheison.

Anya felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. They had already spoken to him the day before, and weren't planning on hearing from him again until that evening. That meant something very good or something very bad had happened. Based on history and instinct she had to assume it was bad.

"You too, Lieutenant. Everything alright?" He didn't waste time with small talk. He had lived in the same world as everyone else, and was well aware of the possibilities.

"In a manner of speaking. You want the good news or the bad news first?"

Hoffman blew out a long breath. "Shit, I guess the bad news. End it on the high note."

The radio was loud enough for everyone to hear without straining, but they all leaned in a little closer.

"It's Gettner, sir." Mathieson said. Everyone held their breath. "We've had someone monitoring her since the Ravens are downed. She just hasn't been right. But she slipped her watch and has gone missing." He paused a beat. "Her, Barber, and a raven. And it seems they liberated a few cans of fuel. Sharle's been cursing a blue streak since he realized it was missing."

"Shit." Marcus muttered from the back of the truck. It was obvious he was blaming himself in some way he shouldn't be.

"And I'm sure he's only concerned for her safety. Remind him that she's a fucking person, not just a COG asset. Any idea where they got off to?" Hoffman tried to remain optimistic.

"My best guess would be that she's en route to Anvegad, sir. She hasn't been saying much, but the bit she has said had mostly revolved around being of more use elsewhere. I imagine that means you folks," Mathieson said. He sounded confident in the assumption.

Hoffman wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

"Plus, Sharle can tell you the amount of imulsion we've got left down to the liter, so he knows she's taken enough for roughly a round trip."

He held the button again. "So what's the good news, then?"

They could almost hear the smile on Mathieson's face. "We've found a few functioning oil rigs, sir. Well, functioning as of three weeks ago. It seems the research staff here had been considering alternative fuel sources for quite some time. The island can run on the water turbine. That's nearly done, by the way. Trescu's been down there himself helping out." He paused again to chuckle.

The thought of a nation's leader pitching in to do simple construction work was actually amusing. Baird tried to picture Prescott on a construction site with a hard hat and work boots, but just couldn't make the mental image work.

Mathieson continued. "But they had mapped out pre-Pendulum War oil rigs, and which were still possibly functional based on their recon. The images look…promising, sir. So for the vehicles we'll have some type of crude fuel again. And there's still a few solar plants scattered around that we may be able to get running, too. They should take care of the housing and commercial elements so we can actually start rebuilding. Solarro still had a plant standing as of last month. I know we had to rely on Imulsion because the power grid wasn't strong enough before, but with the population being…" he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "…Diminished, we should be able to function on old resources again. At least long enough to work out a long-term solution."

Hoffman was grinning. He looked like he was near tears. "_Damn_ good news, son. You've made this old bastard's day."

The radio hummed again. "The best part, sir, is that the Solarro plant is only a few hours' drive from Port Caval. That makes it pretty damn close to home for you." There was no mistaking the joy in Mathieson's voice.

It took Hoffman a long time to decide what to respond with. He knew he had to say _something_, but the vast amount of information he'd just received was still working its way into his brain. Part of him wondered if he'd heard him right, but by the looks of relief and joy on everyone's faces as he glanced around told him he'd heard just fine. Bernie was giving him that look that said she was expecting him to keel over again and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Mathieson, next time I see you, I'll…Hell, I don't even know what I can do for you, but I'll damn well do something." Hoffman was rapidly running out of cohesive sentences. "Delta's shipping out, but when they're gone we'll radio back and figure out some specifics."

"Yes, sir," came the cheerful response. "Give 'em hell, Delta. Mathieson out."

The radio went silent and it seemed everyone sighed at the same time.

"You heard the man, Gears. There's our hope for the future. We've got a plan, resources, and at least part of a solution. Now move out and settle this shit once and for all so we can get the world back to being habitable again. Our citizens deserve it, and you've fucking earned it, soldiers." Hoffman had renewed vigor in his short speech and it was inspiring. Everyone stood a little straighter and held their chins a little higher. Something had shifted, and for once it was something _good_.

Everyone took their positions and settled in for the ride. Some of the civvies and Gears had come out to see them off. Hoffman would surely be making a formal announcement about the news that would have everyone's spirits lifted. Even Ollivar was smiling a little. The prospect of losing his Imulsion field had nearly caused him to vomit, but even he couldn't deny that a glimmer of hope for a future free of war looked promising.

Hoffman and Bernie said their quick good-byes and good-lucks and gave a promise to radio with news of Gettner before turning back to towards CIC. Hoffman was eager to find out everything he could from Mathieson, and everyone was starting to get antsy about leaving again.

As the packhorses started their way down the road, Baird's truck taking the lead, Anya looked over at Marcus. Even he had looked briefly pleased at the news, but now his expression had shifted back into a slight frown. She nudged his arm and tilted her head to the side in silent question.

"Gettner," was all he said at first.

"She'll be alright. Raven pilots survive everything, remember? Hoffman says they're crazier than all of us," she said, trying hard to sound as confident as she felt she needed to.

"I should have let them follow." He shook his head slowly as he mentally berated himself.

"No, you did the right thing. We couldn't spare the fuel. But if they are heading here, it'll be nice to have a Raven standing by for extraction if we need it." Anya was trying to find the right thing to say, but she doubted there was one.

His jaw twitched briefly like he was about to say something else but had decided against it. He just fixed his eyes forward again, lost deep in his own head.

Resigning herself to a long and silent trip, Anya started cycling through the radio channels out of a mix of curiosity and habit. If there were any incoming signals from the Stranded settlement she wanted to be the first to know about it.

She tried to concentrate on the hope looming on the horizon, but no amount of distraction was going to take her mind off of Gettner, or Griffin.

Looking over to check on Marcus she realized he was in the exact same frame of mind.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26:**

Pad had been dropped off at a reasonable distance, and Carmine went along as a spotter. He took the assignment with no protest, like most other things he'd been tasked with. Even though they wouldn't be driving much farther, one truck was left with them on the side of the road, parked under the shade of the trees. Jace, Anya and Ollivar crammed into the back of the first pack, grateful that they didn't have long to go.

Pad had agreed that radio silence was the best option unless there was an emergency, but from his observation point he'd be able to see them going in. He'd lined up a clear sightline with the tower and could almost read some of the posters in Griffin's office through his scope.

The temptation to put a bullet clean through his head was strong, but he'd gotten his orders. He just tapped out the agreed upon signal on the radio; _I've got a visual_, and cut the transmission. He wouldn't be able to follow Griffin everywhere, but he could see his desk, and through the other windows he could see he had a pretty good view of what was going on.

The others rolled up to radio range of the tower and pulled the truck off the road. Last time they'd left someone with a truck inside the city limits, he'd been abducted. They were taking no chances this time.

The truck was parked in light tree cover and thin tarps were tossed over ot to provide some camouflage. There'd be no hiding the truck from up close, but at least it wouldn't be easily spotted from a distance.

Everyone took all the ammo they could carry without it slowing them down and stocked up on grenades. Despite Ollivar's strong protest, he was only given his pistol.

Baird still wasn't entirely on board with the plan. It required putting faith in way too many Stranded; Griffin not to shoot them all on sight, Ollivar not to double cross them, and every single person they had to walk past on the way in and run past on the way out not to put a bullet in their backs.

"So what if Griffin doesn't give a shit about our new buddy here and tells us to fuck off?" Baird wasn't asking anyone in particular, he just needed to get it out.

"Then we figure out what he _does_ want, and we dangle that in front of him." Alex said.

Baird could have sworn she was staring at Marcus.

"Too bad we don't have any night vision goggles left, or more bots. We could just sneak in at night and bang out before anyone knew we were there." Sam said. She looked over to Baird with a slight smirk. "Maybe you can add that to the list of shit to build when we're done."

"Alright, everybody quiet. I'm calling in." Marcus finally spoke up. The small talk was starting to grate on his nerves, not that anyone could tell. The slight twitch of the jaw could just as easily have been attributed to the agitation over the uncertainty of what they were about to be doing.

Anya had found a channel that seemed to be the busiest. Based on the light chatter she'd heard it was safe to assume that most of the inhabitants of the tower would be using it. They'd taken the handheld radio out of the truck so everyone would be able to listen in without changing their earpieces from the squad frequency.

Marcus took a deep breath before pressing the transmit button.

"Sergeant Fenix to Griffin tower, anyone receiving?" He gave it about a minute before repeating himself.

There was a long silence.

Finally a man's voice came back. "Sergeant? Hah. Sergeant of what? Last we heard the COG fell apart."

Marcus sighed slightly, refusing to get into that particular argument. "We've got someone here Griffin might be interested in. He around?"

"Depends. Who is it you've got?"

Marcus gave Ollivar a steady look. _Don't fuck this up._

Ollivar rolled his eyes and held his hand out impatiently for the truck mike. He flashed a wide smile at Marcus before speaking into the radio.

"Shit, shit! Don't do this, man! Fuck you. You can't _do_ this! You're supposed to be the fucking good guys!" He had managed to make himself sound out of breath, like he really was about to shit himself. He handed the microphone to Anya who was staring at him with wide eyes. He shrugged. "You don't survive this long in this world without learning how to be convincing."

Marcus pressed his finger back to his ear. "In case you missed that, that'd be Lyle Ollivar expressing his feelings for us bringing him back here." He nodded at Ollivar. It could have been taken as 'job well done', but coming from Marcus it was impossible to tell.

It took an unsettlingly long time for anyone to respond.

"Ollivar is dead." The voice didn't sound as self-assured anymore. "Griffin's men shot him and threw him overboard."

Ollivar shot a look to Marcus. "Shit, that's Remy."

"That supposed to mean something to me?" Marcus asked.

Ollivar gave him a frustrated sigh. "I guess not. He's a good kid. He's probably shitting his pants knowing that those fuckers lied to him about me being dead. He was always too trusting."

The radio hummed impatiently.

Marcus spoke into the radio again. "Seems to me you've been lied to. He's very much alive."

Remy came back over the radio, still sounding incredibly shaken. He was near stuttering. The poor kid must have really cared about what happened to Ollivar to be so busted up about it. "Ok…and what do you want from us?"

"We want to talk to your boss. Where's Griffin?" Marcus said.

"He's, uh, in his office. I think." Remy said.

Baird scoffed. "And that's why you don't let friggin' civvies run the comms. They'll tell you anything if you get them rattled." He looked at Marcus. "Tell me again why we're not letting the ghost man put a bullet in his head now and be done with the damn thing."

Marcus gave him a look that could have been impatience or indifference. "Because Hoffman wants him alive, and because they'd just come after us."

"They're coming after us _now._" Sam said. "At least the asshole would be dead."

"Another asshole would just take his place." Marcus grumbled.

"Should I be taking offense to that?" Ollivar asked, smirking. He was thoroughly enjoying the bickering.

"Depends. How long after we cut you loose should we be expecting the knife in the back?" Baird had his hands balled into fists on his hips like he was just waiting to the chance to knock Ollivar on his ass.

"I guess that depends on how long it takes the _COG_ to revert to the murdering assholes they've always been." Ollivar sneered over at Baird, but his hand was getting closer to his pistol. His survival instincts had kicked in, and he wouldn't be caught unprepared.

_"Enough_." Marcus growled. He gripped Ollivar's shoulder firmly and gave him a shove back. "Knock it off already. The only reason Hoffman agreed to let you take over was because you gave us_ your_ word that there'd be a truce. Hoffman's a lot of things, but he's not a liar. So shut the hell up and remember that deal you made. If you're not going to honor it, there's no sense keeping you around, is there?"

Marcus let go slowly, but he stared hard at Ollivar for a few moments like he was debating on shooting him on the spot. In all actuality he was probably just trying to gauge his reaction, but it didn't hurt that Ollivar would assume the former.

Jerking his shoulder away, Ollivar's smirk returned. "My memory is just fine, Fenix."

"Good." Marcus said.

The radio crackled again, successfully diverting everyone's attention. "Uh, Fenix, right? Griffin's on his way down. He said he remembers you."

Marcus did a slow blink and muttered under his breath. "That'll be helpful." He pressed his finger to his ear again. "I'm sure he does."

Dropping his arm back down, he looked back to Ollivar. "So, how many of your men do you think will defend Griffin once they realize what's going on?"

A good leader would know that answer would never be an absolute zero. No matter how much your people claimed to love you, there was always a chance that one would realize the grass was greener elsewhere. Baird found himself wondering if any of the Gorasni would have abandoned Trescu if they were in the same situation. He couldn't think of any that would.

"There's a handful that weren't always the faithful type, but for the most part I ran a tight operation." He paused briefly and smiled a sinister smile. "We knew what to do with those that were openly defiant, you see. But I'd be a fool not to admit there's a chance someone may have changed teams after they thought I was dead."

"Less than ten?" Marcus pressed.

"Probably less than five." Ollivar said with a proud grin.

"Is that your legitimate estimate, or your arrogant asshole estimate?" Baird said from behind him.

Marcus nearly spoke right over him, refusing to let the argument pick back up. "What he means is, are you being realistic, or are you an optimist? I don't want to walk into a room and expect ten men to back you and find that they'd all rather see you dead."

"Yeah, you'd hate to lose your bargaining chip." Ollivar said. He was getting impatient. "Look, I can only tell you that most of my top men," he didn't dare use the word 'soldiers' in front of a group of Gears who were all keyed up and ready to kill. "…were men I would have trusted with my life. You may think we're all assholes, but we've got morals and loyalty, too. When it comes down to drawn guns and tension, I can only think of _maybe_ one who'd be aiming at me, and I'd blow his fucking brains out the second he tried." He patted his pistol to emphasize the point.

Before Marcus could respond an all too familiar voice came over the radio.

"That really you, Fenix? Shit, you must be fucked in the head to come all the way back here." Griffin said.

"Yeah, I've been told that about myself. But we're here to talk business." Marcus said. He sounded more bored than anything, but his expression gave away the slightest hint of agitation.

Griffin laughed dryly. "What the fuck business you think I want to do with you?"

"I've got Lyle Ollivar out here, and from what I understand you've got a decent amount of folks living in that city who'd rather have him running the place than you. Seems to me he's the only thing standing between you and uncontested leadership." Marcus said.

There was a long pause.

"And you really think I'm gonna trust you to just hand him over? I'd ask if you're just feeling generous, but I'm gonna assume there's something in it for the almighty COG otherwise you wouldn't have taken the chance of coming back here." Griffin hadn't made his way to the top without learning there was always a catch.

Marcus stared off towards the city. "It's simple. We give you Ollivar, you call off the dogs. You've got your peace of mind, and we've got ours."

Uncertainty flickered over Ollivar's face, but he put up a good front. Sam had caught it, though. She couldn't blame him for being uneasy; it was essentially the same deal they had offered him.

The difference just boiled down to the more trustworthy of the two men. Ollivar had just had the luck of being the lesser asshole. But deals with gang lords would never be savory. Just another bitter pill to swallow for the greater good.

Griffin finally responded. "And what makes you think I'm willing to make a deal with you?"

"Because if you don't, everyone in that city will abandon you for the guy standing out here, and no one will be there to do your dirty work anymore. Not to mention the fact that you could use a good faith gesture towards us since we've still got a naval fleet and raven pilots just looking for something to do with their time now that the locust are gone." It wasn't a bluff; Marcus never bluffed. The facts were all true. It was just a matter of presenting them in the most strategic way.

"Clock's ticking, Griffin. We're not going to wait all day for you to decide what to do."

The radio hummed for a few moments as everyone stared at it; as if he would respond faster if they listened harder. Anya began to consider what they'd do if Griffin refused. They certainly didn't have a large enough force with them for a forceful extraction. Getting out with Griffin once the Stranded knew Ollivar was back would be hard enough. But getting access to the current leader of the camp if he decided they weren't welcome after all would be a challenge they were not prepared for.

"Alright," Griffin began. "I'm a reasonable man. How about you bring my predecessor on up to the front gate and let me get a look at him. Make sure we're all being honorable. If it's really him, then we can discuss a deal."

Alarms were going off in Baird's head. By the looks of the others, he wasn't alone.

He lowered his voice, even though the radio wasn't set to transmit. "That doesn't sound like an ambush at all."

"I don't like it any more than you do, but I don't see him strolling out to the woods to do the transfer. Eventually we're going to have to go in. At least if we agree he'll think he can trust us." Marcus said.

"Yeah. Too bad we won't have a chance to thank him for being so understanding when a shitload of Stranded descend on us with stolen guns and take us all hostage." Baird muttered.

Marcus shot him a glare. "Anything _productive_ to add, Baird?"

Baird rolled his eyes before shaking his head.

"Fine." Marcus pressed his earpiece once more. "Can I assume you'll be coming armed, and with company?"

"Same as you, I'm sure." Griffin answered. "Call it insurance. Don't keep me waitin' Fenix."

The channel fell silent. Everyone hovered around the truck in silence for a moment, looking each other over and letting the adrenaline take over. This was the feeling they were used to; the brief time before a battle when your body started the slow switch to auto-pilot.

"Since he's coming down anyway, why not grab him at the gate? Save us the trouble of getting clear of the building." Sam said, patting down her pockets to ensure they were full.

Anya's expression brightened slightly. She looked to Marcus for an answer. Despite being the highest ranked officer there, part of her wanted to leave the ultimate choice to him.

Marcus looked from Anya over to Ollivar. "You think anyone would shoot you on sight if they didn't know Griffin was out of the picture?"

Ollivar shook his head, looking incredibly smug. "No way."

"Fine." Marcus said. "If we see the chance, we grab him at the gate. No one take any crazy risks, but the chances of hitting trouble inside the city are much higher. Unless his welcome committee is bigger than we're expecting there's no sense putting it off."

As they began the slow walk towards the city gates, Sam caught Ollivar by the elbow. "Hold on." Pulling a short length of rope from her belt pouch, she waved it at him. "I'll try not to enjoy this too much."

"Yeah, yeah," he shot back as he turned away from her. "Just leave it loose enough for me to get free. If he does shoot you assholes I'd like to have a fighting chance."

"Don't sound too sad about that or we might think you're starting to like us," she said, securing his hands loosely behind his back.

"_Like_ has nothing to do with it. It's all about survival now. The sooner you idiots figure that out, the easier time you'll have doing the shit you need to do to achieve it." Ollivar sauntered out ahead of her.

She could have sworn he was about to start whistling as he walked.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27:**

"You think Pad heard the change of plans?" Sam asked Baird quietly. They had taken a position towards the rear of the small procession, followed only by Jace and Cole.

"Carmine's not the dumbest asshole in the world. He knew to listen for us." Baird answered, keeping an eye on Ollivar as he looked past him towards the others.

Alex had fallen in next to Marcus, and Anya was slightly behind them. It would have looked like there was a shift in the coupling if Bard didn't know Alex was just trying to win the pissing contest.

"He heard us," Anya said from up ahead.

Sam wondered if her hearing was only that good because she hadn't been on the front line as long as the rest of them. Explosions hadn't done much permanent damage to her eardrums yet.

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

"I switched back to his channel. He tapped out a signal. He's probably going to change his OP," she said. She got that distanced look in her eyes that said she was mapping out potential locations in her head. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her free hand she glanced up toward the low cliff-side facing the town. There was no way she'd spot him, but it gave her a better indication of the possibilities.

There was a small comfort in knowing you had a sniper on your side up in the mountains. But when you weighed it with the chances of the opposing side having the upper hand of knowing the terrain and having their own forces in place to counteract your forces, it was only another thing occupying your mind.

There was now a crudely built gate across the access road to the city. As they came around the last bend in the path it came into view. There was now nothing standing between them and a handful of angry Stranded with guns except for about two hundred meters of open highway. The nearest tree cover was close, but if bullets started flying there was a good chance someone was going down before they reached it.

There was an uneasy silence. Even Baird managed to keep from cracking a joke, which made the entire thing that much more unsettling.

As they approached the gate it became clear they were outnumbered. Griffin stood at the head of the group with his golden gnasher cradled in his arms. Behind him stood nearly twenty men, all armed with an odd assortment of weapons. Mostly retro-lancers and hammerbursts, but one larger man was holding a boomshot. Cole was trying not to think about how he managed to get it. Either he was tougher than he looked, or a Gear had died in the process of killing the grub and his buddies never made it back to salvage it. Neither option was appealing.

"I'm getting really tired of walking straight into an ambush on an open friggin' road." Baird had finally given up on the dedication to silence.

"As long as they miss me." Ollivar chuckled quietly.

Shoving the muzzle of the lancer into his back, Baird caused him to trip over himself briefly before regaining his footing.  
"Just trying to make it convincing, asshole. And remind you to shut the hell up."

"Shut it." Marcus growled from the front. "We're outgunned at the gate. We'll have to go in."

"That sounds like a fantastic fucking plan. We'll go from outgunned in the open to outgunned and pinned down. Any other brilliant ideas, Fenix?" Alex snapped.

Baird found himself remembering his feelings on women on the front line.

Marcus shot her a quick, but silencing, glare. He wasn't going to have it out with her, especially here and now, but he didn't need to. She had a hell of a mouth, but she'd never let it get in the way of taking her orders, no matter how unsavory she found them.

They closed the gap quickly and finally all that stood between the two groups was the rusted metal gate.

Griffin stared hard at Marcus for a long beat before turning to look at Ollivar, who was putting on his best act of being scared shitless. It was pretty convincing.

"Alright, so you're an _honest_ asshole. I'll give you that. Now that you're all right here, wanna tell me why I should keep my people from wasting all you motherfuckers right now?"

The reaction was sudden and instant. Guns were readied in the blink of an eye. No one could say for sure who shifted first, but the rest went like dominos. One after another the sounds of shifting fabric and cocking shotguns filled the air around them before falling into a tense stillness. The only movement visible was the eyes of everyone shifting back and forth between possible targets.

Anya ached for the sound of a Raven flying in to lay down cover fire. But since they'd heard nothing of Gettner yet, she knew it was only wishful thinking.

Taking the chance to speak first, Anya put on her best calming CIC voice. She hoped the sound of speech wouldn't startle anyone with a twitchy trigger finger.

"How about we all just relax for a minute and speak like rational human beings?" She trained her eyes on Griffin's, but she kept Marcus in her peripheral vision. There was no denying the bad blood between the two of them, and she was just waiting for Griffin to stoke the hatred.

Griffin lowered his gun slightly, but made no effort to get his men to follow suit. "Lady, I _am_ a rational human being. The rational part of me says I want all of you dead. So you tell me why I shouldn't say the word."

Marcus had his gun leveled at Griffin's chest. He did a slow scan of the men around him before returning his eyes to him.

"Because the _rational_ part of you knows the COG would level this shithole if anything happened to us. We came here to make a deal. Are you in or not?" Marcus never failed to cut through all the bullshit. There was no point in a long, delicate negotiation. This would only end with Griffin captured, or all of them dead. He just planned on doing his best to ensure it was the former.

Griffin made a point to look over each member of the squad before waving his arm to have his men lower their guns. "Seeing as you're so outnumbered, I don't think you'll try anything _that_ stupid." He snapped his fingers at a smaller man off to the side who responded by walking over to the side of the gate.

The wheel at the bottom of the gate grated noisily over the gravel and broken pavement as it slid open. Everyone had lowered their weapons to some degree, but no one was returning their rifles to their backs any time soon.

Ollivar's nerves were starting to fray. His hands were fidgeting with the rope as he reassured himself that he'd be able to escape. Occasionally he subtly patted the pistol tucked in his waistband under his shirt. Sam gave him a nudge on the shoulder with her rifle. To an outsider it would have looked like she was simply prodding him along, but he knew she was telling him in no uncertain terms to knock it off before he was found out.

The walk to Griffin Tower was excruciatingly long. The distance itself wasn't far, but the crowd of Stranded spectators made the progress slow. Apparently they'd all forgotten just how quickly being nosy could become dangerous. The Jacinto citizens had learned to mind their own business and ignore whatever was going on in the streets. Running into the street to see what the commotion was or sticking your head out the window was a good way to get yourself killed. And the Stranded had always relied on instinct to know when to hole up and hide and wait for the trouble to pass. But with the locust gone, the natural human desire to know what was going on in your neighborhood had crept right back in.

Despite how immense the crowd seemed, upon closer inspection Anya realized there were probably less than two hundred people lining the street. The buildings that still stood behind them looked deserted, and the only major source of sound and light was Griffin Tower. Maybe the settlement wasn't as large as they'd guessed.

Apparently Baird had noticed the same thing. She heard him speak from behind her, sounding even more agitated than she felt.

"Hey, jackass. Thought you said your people were dog-loyal. They sure jumped ship as soon as they could. And so much for the huge force you threatened _us_ with," There was a silent question behind the statement. He was wondering just how many of the small community were actually people who'd stand behind Ollivar.

Anya shot a quick look over her shoulder and noticed how visibly shaken Ollivar was. And it wasn't an act anymore. She was sure of it.

Before he could respond, Griffin laughed from ahead of them. "Shit, you think I made it this far in life by leaving loose ends? Anyone who wasn't one hundred percent onboard with the new leadership was given a funeral fit for a pirate. Burial at sea."

Ollivar came to a sudden stop and Baird plowed into him, giving him another rough shove forward. He took the opportunity to lean in and whisper. "Do you recognize anyone?"

Ollivar gave a swift shake of his head before he picked his pace back up. One of Griffin's men, the big asshole with the boomshot, gave the pair of them a stern look. He wasn't exactly sure what was said, but he knew something was going on.

The situation was rapidly changing, and there was no way to signal it to anyone else without being found out.

But Delta hadn't survived this long without learning to be aware of what went on around them. Marcus had stiffened up. It was the only subtle sign he gave that he knew something shifted, but from serving together for this long, Baird had noticed. So had Anya, by the looks of it. She didn't have that classic Fenix stoicism, so her face gave her away if you knew what to look for.

They made their way onto the elevator, which after the battle with Myrrah looked like it was barely hanging on. It was a tight fit, but they refused to be separated. Griffin only had a handful of his men standing around him, effectively creating a wall between the two groups. Only five would fit with the large squad of Gears, but that seemed to be even enough odds to leave Griffin still feeling confident. The cables groaned and strained under the weight of them, but against all expectations the platform slowly started to rise.

Marcus took the opportunity to take a quick scan of the area. With the bodies pressed so tightly, it was highly unlikely that anyone would risk opening fire at that moment.

Looking over the side rail, he swept the street with his eyes and took note of which houses looked lived in. Smoke wasn't coming from any chimneys, and most of them didn't even have doors. There was no indication that any other building was inhabited other than the tower. He wasn't sure how he could use that knowledge, but he filed it in the 'probably useful' category in his brain.

Baird had ended up pressed up behind him. It was no accident. "Ton of ordnance in the lower level." He said quietly in Marcus' ear.

"Somethin' you wanna share with the group, asshole?" Griffin had caught the movement, but couldn't hear the words.

"Just telling the Sergeant here about how lovely your city is. You guys really did a great job with the place. The smell really gives it character." Baird smirked over at Griffin. His sarcasm made the statement entirely convincing.

"Compared to what it looked like after _the COG_ torched it, it's pretty damn nice. And considering it survived the grub attack that you fuckers brought to our door, I think we've done fine." Griffin found any way possible to shift the blame of any hardship to the COG. It was an easy scapegoat, after all. And nothing created unity among Stranded like a good old-fashioned hatred for the COG.

The platform squealed to a stop. Griffin stepped out ahead of everyone with two of his men right behind him. The other three waited as the Gears exited before bringing up the rear. There was a definite, intense mistrust that had everyone trying to keep an eye on everyone else.

Baird noticed that he and the rest of Delta had formed a type of protective circle around Ollivar. On the surface the idea was slightly revolting and he nearly caught himself shoving him out ahead of the group, but he quickly reminded himself that, despite his protests, they were instructed to let Ollivar take this settlement over.

Though it was starting to look like that wasn't going to happen. Griffin or no Griffin.

They were being slowly herded towards Griffin's office. Unfortunately, it was large enough to accommodate the entire group. There would be no easy excuse to eliminate any of the opposition. Anya let Marcus keep his eyes on Griffin and took a moment to take her own survey of the building.

The floors they had passed were barely inhabited. Mostly women and children were milling around, and a scarce few. Most of the residents of what was left of Char were probably making their way back into the tower below, as the show in the street was now over. Curiosity would drive them indoors if for no other reason than to get closer to the action and hopefully be updated as soon as possible on what was going on. After all, it wasn't often that a squad of Gears towing a hostage came strolling through.

The floor they had stopped on was slightly more occupied. It was obvious that most of the families were crammed into the upper floors. Maybe the height gave the illusion of safety, or maybe it was the close quarters. But whatever it was that drove them here, it was clear that this floor had become the epicenter of the small population.

A small group of kids had taken refuge behind a row of small crates and were peering up at the squad in awe. Many of them probably hadn't even seen a Gear before, let alone a whole squad of them. But they'd grown up in a world full of monsters, so compared to Locust Anya assumed they would look at them as the good guys instead of the villains. The oldest child, a skinny scruffy looking boy around ten years old found the courage to speak up.

"Are there more monsters coming?" he asked quietly.

The entire group came to a halt and turned to face him at the same time. Griffin snorted bitterly, but didn't bother responding. He started to move forward again, but caught sight of movement behind him and stopped.

Anya took two slow steps toward the group of kids and knelt down, putting herself at eye level with the boy. His dark brown eyes went wide, but he managed to keep a lid on his fear. The others had crowded in behind him and waited anxiously for her response. She spoke softly, but firmly.

"No. No more monsters are coming ever again. We got rid of all of them. Forever." She reached out and patted his arm.

He started to pull away. And his eyes darted over to a woman standing nearby. Judging by the resemblance it was his mother. She looked torn between her own disdain for the COG and her admiration for what they'd achieved and the effort Anya was making to assuage the boy's fears.

The boy offered her a small smile. "So we don't have to be scared anymore?"

Griffin scoffed from behind her. "Not of the grubs. Just the COG."

Anya's brow furrowed, and she made a genuine effort not to look angry. She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. "You don't have to be scared anymore. You guys tell your moms and dads that, ok? And you tell them that we're going to start rebuilding all the cities and schools so everyone can start getting back to normal, ok?" She ruffled his hair before reaching into her belt pouch and pulling out a few ration bars to hand over. He gave her a quick nod and skittered off towards his mother, with all the other kids in tow waiting for their share of the snacks.

Anya stood and dusted her pants off before coming back over to the rest of them. She leveled a stare at Griffin. "Teaching the kids to be afraid of us isn't going to do them any favors. We're all going to have to coexist."

"Shit, I was just sharing some truth, lady. If you can't take it, maybe it's because you know you're on the wrong side." Griffin had started walking again, complete with his two bodyguards.

Anya opened her mouth to protest, but Marcus nudged her with his elbow and gave her a quick head shake. Under other circumstances he'd be the first one to set the story straight, but now wasn't the time for it. They had enough to worry about without provoking an unnecessary argument.

Griffin entered his office first and took a set behind the large desk. The two men that had been close behind him took positions to his left and right, standing at full alert. The others blocked the two doors to the room and did their best to look menacing. Cole kept his eyes on the boomshot.

Marcus had ended up at the front of the group once again, flanked by Alex and Baird. Ollivar was behind him, completely surrounded by the rest of the squad.

Griffin propped his feet up, making a point to look completely relaxed. He intertwined his fingers behind his head and leaned back, not even bothering to make eye contact as he spoke.

"So, Fenix. You've got my attention. Now let's see if you remember what I taught you about doing business."

Marcus did a slow sweep of the room with his eyes, mentally calculating the firepower and the strength of each man. The man with the boomshot wouldn't take a chance of firing in such close quarters. The two beside Griffin were holding gnashers that would definitely pack the worst punches. The last two men held a hammerburst and a retro lancer, and there wasn't much room in the crowded office to allow for the chance to spray a burst of rounds down the center. Any shooting would require at least some aiming, there would be little time for that when the fight inevitably broke out.

He took a deliberate step forward, making subtle eye movements to Alex and Baird to indicate their instructions; get the two with shotguns on his signal. It was poor luck that Alex was where Cole should have been, but he hoped that would leave Cole ready to get ahold of the bigger guy behind them. He and Baird had served together long enough for Baird to get the message. He could only hope Alex would understand as well.

Now Marcus just had to get within grabbing range of Griffin to set the ball rolling. He came up to the front of the desk, still holding his lancer at the ready. His voice came as a low rumble.

"I've got a good memory. So seeing as I've got something you want, I think it's time you tell me; what's in it for us?"

Griffin laughed. Sitting up, he swung his feet down and leaned forward over the desk. "I thought we already decided that my end of this deal was not killing you motherfuckers at the gate. So how about you turn over my hostage so we can get the fuck on with our business?"

Marcus gave him the slow stare and an eerily calm expression came over his face. "I've got a better idea," he said slowly, just before he swung his lancer straight into the side of Griffin's face.


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28:**

The room erupted into chaos. Shouting came from all directions. As soon as Griffin realized what had happened, Marcus had vaulted over the desk and thrown his entire body weight into him, sending the chair tumbling out from under them as they went down.

Baird had clearly received the signal and went for the guy with the gnasher at almost the same moment as Marcus had moved. He had cannoned into him, throwing his elbow into the guy's chin. The shotgun went flying out of his hands as Baird's momentum carried them both to the wall and Baird pressed his forearm into his throat, pinning him before he fully realized what had happened.

Alex had taken half a second to move, and it cost her. As she closed the distance between her and the second shot-gunner, his attention was still on Griffin. The moment he'd spotted her moving towards her he spun, bringing the barrel around to fire. The muzzle caught her just above her right eye. But in true Alex Brand fashion, she'd barely hesitated. She came back with a really brutal punch, connecting her fist with the guy's nose. The blood started pouring out as she shoved the barrel of her lancer hard against his chest. Blood was running into her eye from the gash that had split open, but she didn't dare free her hand to wipe it.

Cole had seized the opportunity to go after the guy he'd been eyeing up since they arrived. He tackled him only the way a thrashball player could. The guy put up a good fight and tried to swing the boomshot into Cole to fend him off, but it wasn't long before he was pinned and swearing, empty handed.

Sam had made fierce eye contact with the man with the hammerburst. She'd sized him up when they were on the elevator, and was fairly confident in her assessment that he would crumble in a heartbeat in the face of true danger. Before he could aim in her direction she'd gotten in close and revved the chainsaw, raising her eyebrow with a smirk. He wisely dropped the gun and put his arms up before she'd spun him to face the wall and checked him over for a sidearm.

Jace had caught the one with the retrolancer in a headlock. During the short struggle he'd sprayed a burst of fire straight up into the ceiling. Jace managed to get his pistol and pressed it into the guy's side, yelling at him to drop the weapon. The retrolancer clattered to the floor as the guy jammed his fingers under Jace's arm, trying to ease the pressure on his throat.

Marcus finally hauled Griffin up to his feet and shoved him down onto the desk, lancer pressed firmly into his back. He wasn't escaping anytime soon. At some point during the struggle Ollivar had yanked his hands free and pulled his pistol from his waistband. In an odd show of solidarity, he now had it pointed at Griffin as he gave Marcus a very subtle nod of the head.

Though time seemed to slow during the action, once everyone came to a standstill it seemed that only moments had passed. The tense silence was filled with heavy breathing and a few groans from the guy with the busted nose. Marcus did a quick scan of the room, counting heads and assessing where everyone had ended up.

"I have a feeling we'll have company any second thanks to the asshole with the quick trigger finger," Baird said. He shot a glare at Jace, like it was his fault the guy managed to squeeze a few rounds off.

"Then we better get the hell out of here," Marcus said as Anya came up next to him and bound Griffin's hands behind his back. Baird was right. It was only a matter of time before someone got curious about the gunfire.

During the Locust war hearing gunfire was all too common. Target practice wasn't unusual, but even when the ammo started running low hardly anyone took notice of the occasional sporadic shooting. If there was a reason for panic, the radio or word of mouth would raise the alert soon enough.

But two weeks was a long time to go without hearing gunfire every day. It didn't take long for people to settle back into the comfort of relative silence. So no matter how accustomed everyone had been to the sound, this time it was sure to get at least a curious peek or two.

Once he was satisfied that Griffin's hands were secured, Marcus clipped his lancer to his back and pulled his pistol from its holster. He'd have one hand on Griffin at all times to keep him from bolting, and if all else failed he could at least use him as a meat-shield.

But Griffin wasn't in a cooperative mood.

"You really think you're gonna make it out of here alive? You've fucked up for the last time, Fenix." Griffin had split his lip during the scuffle, but it didn't stop his mouth.

Marcus let out a silent sigh. He wasn't taking the bait.

Alex was still bitter about the hit she'd taken. She'd forced her captive to face the wall and dug the barrel of her lancer into his back a little harder than she had to. She had her finger hovering over the chainsaw switch, just waiting for him to give her a reason to use it.

"You really think your men out there are going to kill us once they realize their almighty leader has become a prisoner? They must not value your life much." Alex shot Griffin a vicious look.

He scoffed. "Bitch, please. Those people out there would die _for_ me. And they will if you don't let me go."

That caught Marcus' attention. His usual ability to ignore provocation seemed to take a backseat to his desire for minimal life loss. He spun Griffin around to face him, pushing him to sit on the edge of the desk. "What are you talking about?"

Griffin spit a mouthful of blood on the floor before looking up at him with a sneer. "My contingency plan. You COG assholes think you're the only ones who know about asset denial?"

Marcus' jaw twitched and his head turned slightly, but he stayed silent, waiting for Griffin to explain on his own.

The silence hung for a few moments. The looming threat of suspicious Stranded nearby combined with his natural curiosity eventually allowed Baird's impatience to get best of him.

"What the fuck are you rambling about?" He made sure to sound more annoyed than concerned.

Griffin turned to give him the bloody sneer this time. "You and all your COG buddies know all about mass destruction; denying your enemy the assets they're after. Well, we found our own way to work that out. If anything happens to me, I've got someone just waiting to drop this whole fucking building. That means me, you assholes and every last person inside. Dead. Not to mention every last drop of fuel we've got."

He gave that a moment to sink in before continuing.

"So either you mother fuckers let me go, and we work out a deal that will be considerably more in _my_ favor now that I _know_ I can't trust you, or someone blows this whole fucking building. Since I'll be as good as dead if you leave with me, I'd rather take you assholes with me."

Baird had spotted the explosives on the way up. There were groups of barrels fitted with wires and detonators. With his years of experience, he could spot a makeshift bomb from a hundred yards away. There was no doubt in his mind that there was enough to blow the building. He could only hope that Griffin was bluffing about blowing it with him inside.

But his years of experience had also taught him that if a situation could get shittier, it probably would.

"You're running out of time, Fenix. What's it gonna be?" Griffin looked more pleased than any prisoner should ever look.

Marcus looked distant for a moment. He did another sweep of the room with his eyes and settled on the meekest looking man; the one Sam had her lancer pressed against.

"You? You wanna die here today?" Marcus asked gruffly.

The poor bastard just shook his head quickly, eyes wide with terror. He clearly wasn't sure who he should be more afraid of, but with Griffin's hands bound he seemed to decide the Gears were a much more active threat.

"Then you get your ass out there and get this building fucking emptied. Everyone out. And you find out who plans on blowing the place and tell them it's a real shitty idea. Got it?"

He nodded quickly and started to take a step but Alex spoke up before he could move.

"You think that's a good idea? How do we know he's not gonna blow the place himself?"

"You got a better one?" Marcus didn't want to bother with the Sergeant rivalry. He was well aware of Alex's feelings about the Stranded, but this wasn't the time to hash out a long debate. Any minute someone was going to come through that door wondering what the gunfire was all about. The sooner he could get her to realize how limited their options were, the better.

"Send a few of us with him. We'll keep the radio open in case we hit trouble." Alex eyed Sam thoughtfully, then Anya. "Stroud and Byrne don't have a prisoner to worry about. Send them."

Marcus turned to Anya for a moment, looking almost apologetic. But as quick as it came, the expression disappeared and was replaced with the usual grim frown. The fact that his choice was between saddling her with an uncooperative captive and sending her off in a building that could explode and collapse at any moment just drove home the fact that he sometimes hated her being a frontline Gear. And the fact that the building was inhabited by Stranded made the idea of sending two women, even if they were Gears, out alone incredibly distasteful. Somewhere in the back of his mind lingered the memory of what had happened to Bernie all those years ago.

"Then you should say goodbye now bitch, because there ain't no way you're ever gonna see each other again," Griffin said to Anya with a low chuckle.

Marcus threw a punch and caught him right in the chin. It was sudden, and brutal. If the desk wasn't behind him he would have crumpled like a rag doll. Marcus hadn't held anything back, but Griffin refused to give him the satisfaction of carrying on about it. After taking a moment to collect himself, he spit another mouthful of blood onto the floor, this time with a piece of a tooth. He definitely wasn't going to be saying anything else, at least.

"You think we oughta send Jace with them?" Baird asked. "Or is this ladies day?" Marcus wasn't the only one who didn't love the idea of sending two women out alone.

"If it was ladies day he'd send you, too." Alex said.

"Must be why you're staying behind," Baird shot back. He had pushed his captive down to a kneeling position and was holding his lancer against the back of the guy's neck.

Marcus didn't bothering to tell them to knock it off. He just talked over them in his Sergeant voice, shutting them right up.

"Cole, Baird. Park those guys over here." He jerked his head towards the rear wall behind the desk. "Sam, you still got some rope?"

She nodded.

Marcus gestured for Ollivar to pass his piece over. "Tie their hands to something stable. They're staying here. And gag this asshole," he said, gesturing to Griffin. He looked back to Sam. "You, Baird and Cole follow the little guy. Get the building clear. We'll leave the rest of these guys here. We only signed up for one prisoner."

The leftover men looked shaken. The prospect of being left behind on a sinking ship was unnerving, at best.

"You're gonna leave us here to die?" The boomshot guy had gotten his breath back and was slowly moving from mild fear to anger.

"You made the choice to defend Griffin. We can't haul you all over the building. Once we get clear, we'll send someone back for you." Marcus was being honest, but it didn't make them feel any better. "If you are looking for someone to blame for this, I suggest you take another look at your leader."

Marcus turned back to the squad, resigned to the fact that there was nothing more he could do for the men who, just moments ago, would have killed them.

"We'll take Griffin and RV at the pack. We're getting the hell out of here." He pressed his finger to his ear, keeping his pistol pointed at Griffin as Sam wrapped a length of cloth around his mouth and tied it off.

"Pad, you copy?"

"I hear you, Marcus. And I see you." Pad said in his ear. "And I hear you're sitting on a fuckton of explosives. "

"Yeah. Are we clear to move out? I don't want any surprises waiting for us out there."

There was a long pause before Pad responded.

"Looks clear below, but you've got a handful of guys heading your way with a colorful assortment of weapons. Once you persuade them to let you through it should be clear to the lift. But keep in mind, I can't see through walls."

"Thanks, Pad. Let me know if anything changes." Marcus turned to Alex as his hand dropped. "We move out. Get clear of the building."

Sam prodded the cooperative captive along with her lancer as Baird and Cole fell in behind her.

They split off to the left, away from the incoming group of Stranded. Marcus and the others went right, straight towards them and the lift.

He was ready to face them, using Griffin as a meat shield and their ticket out. He could only hope they had enough value placed on their current leader to listen before opening fire.


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29:**

The moment the group of Stranded turned the corner and came into view, everyone's weapons were raised once more as the two groups came to a complete stop. Only about fifteen feet separated them.

"Hold your fire," Marcus said. "We're here for Griffin. That's all."

"Not gonna happen, _COG_. Let him go." The man at the head of the Stranded party was small, but solid. His retro lancer was pointed at Marcus, but he didn't look very confident about it.

"Can't do that."

"Well unless you plan on shooting your way by, it seems like we've reached a stalemate. Now what?" The guy relaxed a little as he did a quick headcount.

Marcus' hands were full with Griffin, but he still had his pistol. Anya, Jace, and Alex had their lancers readied, but the group ahead of them was made up of about ten men. No amount of training would make those odds favorable.

"No one is shooting anyone. We're only here to do our jobs." Anya took a moment to look for alternate routes, but the only other way out was back the way they came.

"I thought your job was to shoot people," one of the other Stranded said. It was a younger guy, maybe around twenty. He had a permanent sneer that almost reminded her of Baird.

Ollivar came out from behind Marcus slowly, taking care to avoid sudden movements. He let his eyes scan the small group and they settled on a middle aged man towards the back whose eyes suddenly went wide when they met his.

"Lyle?" the man asked. His voice came out as a harsh whisper.

Griffin jerked his head over to see who spoke up. His stare was boring holes in the man as he stepped out into the front of the group.

"Shit. We thought you were dead."

"Someone knows you. Please tell me this is good news." Alex cast a wary look at the man, unwilling to take her eyes off the opposing force.

Ollivar flashed his easy smile again and he made a show of tucking his pistol into his belt again. He stepped out ahead of Marcus and extended his hand, catching the other guy's in a firm handshake.

"It _is_ good news," he said over his shoulder to Alex. Turning to face his old friend again he chuckled. "That asshole is just a better liar than he is a shot. He missed me after I hit the water."

"Wanna catch us up?" Marcus was getting impatient. The looming threat of the building falling out from under them was keeping him on edge.

Ollivar spun to face the squad again, looking even more at ease. It wasn't hard to see now how people could follow his lead. When he looked confident, Lyle Ollivar would be an easy man to listen to.

"This is Thomas. We have some history."

Marcus wasn't impressed. "_Good_ history?"

Now Thomas chuckled. "As good as any history is, these days." He waved his hands to the group that he'd come with, and they slowly lowered their guns. He looked expectantly to the Gears, waiting for them to follow suit.

After trading glances, they did. Marcus kept his pistol pressed to Griffin's back after he lowered it. No matter how things seemed, he knew it would only take a moment for the tables to turn. And if nothing else, he wasn't letting Griffin get his freedom no matter what happened.

"Most of the guys from our crews are long gone. Either they left in search of greener pastures or were..." He hesitated, glaring momentarily in Griffin's direction. "Let's just say we haven't seen or heard from a few guys who declared their loyalty a little too loudly."

"So you got to live because you're a traitor?" Alex asked.

"No. I got to live because I'm not a dumbass," Thomas answered calmly. "After the raids, a lot of us scattered. I found my way here after a few days, and was smart enough to keep my mouth shut. And considering I came with my own boat, they were pretty welcoming. My natural charisma landed me on the ladder to leadership."

"If they raided your fleet, where'd you get the boat? Your _charisma_?" Marcus asked.

Thomas just smiled. "I took it off of someone's hands."

"And I'm sure you offered them a very fair trade," Alex muttered.

"I think you're all missing the point, here," Ollivar said. "It seems the resistance we were worried about is led by an old friend of mine. I'd file that under the 'good news' category."

"You forgetting about the explosives wired in the basement?" Marcus asked, gripping Griffin's arm a little tighter. "We still need to get this building cleared."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Explosives? Shit, they're _there_, but this building isn't going anywhere. Just the people, but not for another week."

The venom in Griffin's stare was unmistakable. He struggled briefly and grumbled unintelligible expletives behind the strip of cloth over his mouth.

"I think you may want to hurry up with your explanation before Sergeant Fenix runs out of patience." Anya said, taking a careful look at Marcus as he jerked Griffin backwards and forced him to be still.

Thomas was skeptical, but Ollivar gave him a reassuring nod. "A lot has changed, Thomas. Like it or not, these assholes are the only reason I'm here. So we called a formal truce. Officially. Hoffman and I hammered out the details. I'll fill you in later. But for now, if you trust me, you can trust them."

Thomas sighed. "We _have_ explosives, but they're not for the tower. The plan was to move back into Mercy. We salvaged what we could here and are packing up to go. The explosives were Griffin's idea. A _deterrent_ for other camps. Half of the barrels are headed for the Imulsion field, and half are being taken to Mercy. The tunnel is blocked, but if you rig the rear entrance to the town with what we're packing, you can seal it off before anyone can come through. Kind of like an insurance policy."

"Well, look at that." Alex looked over at Griffin. "Is _anything_ you say true?"

"He did say he'd kill us if he had the chance. I'm pretty sure that's true." Jace said from behind them.

Griffin twisted violently in Marcus' grip once more.

"Maybe you oughta hit him again," Alex muttered. There wasn't even an ounce of contention in her voice. If anything, it was admiration with a hint of envy.

Anya was still keeping a close eye on everyone. She wasn't letting the momentary peace get to her head. "So now that we've established that no one is getting blown up, I'll radio the others and tell them to head to the truck."

"What others?" Thomas raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking a little more agitated. There still wasn't the level of trust between them that would let a comment like that go unquestioned.

Anya held up her hands passively, trying to head off another possible confrontation. "Three others from our squad. We sent them with one of your men to get everyone out, seeing as _Griffin_ told us he'd be blowing the building with everyone in it." She didn't think it was necessary to mention the sniper stationed in the mountain. The issue of trust was balanced on the edge of a knife, and it wouldn't take much to shatter the delicate peace. Pad and Carmine could simply drive the pack to meet them and they could let the Stranded assume they'd been keeping watch over the trucks the whole time.

Thomas relaxed a little, but shot a smug look over at Griffin. "If you're foolish enough to think _anyone_ would throw their life away, especially with the locust gone, just for you, you're a poor excuse for a leader. We'll be lucky to be rid of you."

If Griffin hadn't been gagged he'd have spat at him. Instead all he could do was stare as a low growl rumbled in his throat.

"Go ahead and call your friends back. We'll pass along the word that everything is fine. Then maybe we can start working out exactly where we all go from here." Thomas was looking at Ollivar again with a mix of relief and admiration.

Anya took one last scan of the group before deciding she'd be safe to take a step away and fill the others in. She'd wait to radio Hoffman until they were clear of the city.

Thomas nodded his head to the rearmost pair of men, and they turned and went back the way they came. The larger of the two pulled a radio from his belt just as they turned the corner. His voice was barely audible and slowly faded with their footsteps.

Marcus looked to Ollivar, his stoic expression masking his growing irritation. "_We_ are taking Griffin back to Anvil Gate. What you do with this camp after that is your business. As long as everyone sticks to the terms of the deal."

"As long as you remember that means I get a front row seat to this fucker's execution," Ollivar jerked his head towards Griffin as he growled yet again. "Then I don't see there being a problem."

"I'm sure he'll mail you an invitation," Marcus grumbled.

Anya came back up behind him. "Baird, Sam and Cole are on their way to the gate. They said they'd barely made any headway convincing the first group to leave."

"We're a stubborn bunch; immune to intimidation." Thomas flashed her a wide grin.

She offered a slight smile back. "We'll have to remember that. But I don't think it will be relevant. Now that we're all friends, anyway."

"I wouldn't go that far just yet, lady. But we can certainly agree that we're heading that way." Thomas turned back to Ollivar. "So what exactly _did_ you offer Hoffman?"

Ollivar's face flashed briefly with bitterness before his expression returned to the cool confidence that had no doubt helped him reach the position he had been in. "Nothing I didn't have to. And nothing we can't spare. Come on. We'll escort our new friends to the gate, then you can tell me more about Mercy."

Marcus bristled, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"Something we oughta know?" Ollivar didn't know Marcus well, but he knew him well enough to know that if something caused him to visibly react, it was probably something important.

Marcus' eyes were unfocused, like he was somewhere else deep in his head again. "We were just there a few days ago. It's empty. Just a lot of bodies to clean up. The town was overrun last time we were there."

"Boy, you guys certainly have shitty luck with that." Ollivar scoffed a little, but there was no real malice. For once he seemed like he was making a genuine effort to reinforce the idea that they were indeed on the path to a working relationship.

But Marcus snapped back to the moment, and his voice rumbled deep in his chest. "Just do me a favor."

Ollivar raised a skeptical eyebrow, but dipped his head in a way that told him to continue.

"There's a cemetery by a church there. A family monument is still standing; Flores. A pair of COG tags is hanging there. Make sure they stay put."

Ollivar paused, debating about asking for an explanation. But in the spirit of new friendship, he decided against it. Whatever the reason, it meant enough to him to ask in front of everyone. Not to mention the fact that Marcus didn't strike him as the typical favor-asking type.

"If anyone touches it, I'll break their fingers myself." Ollivar gave him a convincing nod.

"I'd appreciate it," he replied. And the subject was closed.

The walk back to the gate was considerably more relaxing than the journey in. There were even some conversations bridging the invisible barrier between the two groups. They didn't physically mingle, of course. Only time would serve to break the old habits. But the light chatter was enough to give hope that one day they would all manage to be on friendly terms.

Baird, Sam and Cole were already waiting by the gate. By then there was only Ollivar, Thomas and two younger men still with them. The rest of the Stranded had split off, presumably to finish packing up the settlement in preparation for the move.

"Making new friends?" Baird looked over the unfamiliar faces with curiosity, masked well as annoyance.

"Something like that." Marcus almost looked relieved to see them.

Ollivar chuckled. "Sorry we kept you waiting, Corporal. We just got all the pleasantries out of the way since you're so uncomfortable with friendly conversation."

It was the first time Baird had heard Ollivar use a military rank to address someone without the slightest bit of sarcasm. He took that as a good sign, even if it meant he'd have to play nice, too.

Cole spared him the effort. He extended his arm out for a handshake and introduced himself to the others, doing the same for Sam and Baird. Sometimes only Cole could get away with things like that; easy, friendly gestures that Baird had spent his whole life trying to avoid. But it never mattered what the circumstances were. Cole just looked like someone whose hand you'd want to shake if he offered it.

The other two men, whose names were apparently Theo and Louis, seemed pretty accepting of the shift in allegiances. If nothing else, they were certainly more willing to look at the COG as an ally than most Stranded had been.

Theo took Cole's hand with a genuine smile. He wasn't a particularly small man, but like anyone else he was dwarfed next to Cole. His shoulder length hair was pulled back loosely, making him look younger than he probably was. But the premature creases and scars on his face made up for the youthful hairstyle. And he spoke with a timbre that could only come with age.

"Damn, what do they _feed_ you guys?" He laughed quietly.

Cole's laughter boomed even in the open space. "Better shit now that we're not living on a ship, I hope."

"And it'll only get better once we can actually start farming again." Anya looked to Ollivar, trying to get used to the idea of treating him like the head of an allied community. "There are a few trade routes through Anvegad and the rest of Kashkur. I'm sure once you get settled in Mercy we can work out what we have to offer each other."

Ollivar nodded before turning to look over the city. "Hopefully it's nicer there than it is in this shithole. Maybe we'll even run into some old friends along the way." His voice was almost wistful. It was an unusual deviation from his typical attitude.

"It'll take some work, but it was a lovely town, once," Anya offered.

"I guess you could apply that to pretty much everywhere, huh?" Ollivar seemed to remind himself that he was still being watched. He turned back to face them with his arms crossed, looking more relaxed by the minute.

"And in the interest of honesty, seeing as we're all friends now…" Thomas looked over to Marcus, still trying to work out exactly how to read him.

Marcus narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

"We may be a larger settlement, but that doesn't mean we don't have enemies, too." Thomas shifted his weight, still unsure of how to fill in the gaps of silence that Marcus seemed to leave in every conversation.

"Is that right?" Marcus clenched his jaw, his ice blue eyes piercing and cold.

"We've fended off a few raids. Nothing we couldn't handle, but if you're thinking of splitting into smaller settlements, you may want to wait until the outlaws are dealt with."

"And let me guess; you'll be the ones doing the dealing?" Baird gave Thomas an accusing look that could have been contempt or jealousy.

"If they pick a fight, we have no problem finishing it." Thomas replied.

"Well, in the interest of our new found friendship," Marcus said. "If they give you trouble, call. We're still the government. What's left of it, anyway. Eventually we'll need to establish some sort of justice system again. No point in putting it off."

"So you're the police, now?" Ollivar asked with a smirk.

"If we have to be. We've done it before." Marcus gave Ollivar a steady look.

Baird scoffed. "We policed the civvies when they were near rioting. I think we can handle a few thugs."

Ollivar rolled his eyes, but gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. If we see trouble coming, we'll call. But don't think I'll let my people get hurt while we wait for the cavalry to arrive."

"Wouldn't expect any less." Marcus scanned the small city one last time. "Oh, and we left some men in his office that will need to be let go. I don't suppose I need to tell you to make sure they know about the truce."

"We've got it covered." Ollivar sounded like his normal, confident self.

Marcus gave him a slow nod before turning to go. He pushed Griffin out ahead of him, finally taking a moment to re-holster his pistol and opt for the lancer once again. Something about having a chainsaw at the ready just seemed like a much better reason for Griffin not to chance running.

Anya took a moment to give a more cordial parting word, with promises of contact in the morning to discuss the slow process of rebuilding the entire planet. Ollivar was particularly interested in the fuel situation, but he was willing to accept her word that they'd share what they learned. As long as he'd known her, Anya was nothing but honest. Even he could admit that.

Everyone else offered short goodbyes and nods before following. Even after the entire exchange, Baird still felt a little uneasy about turning his back to go. But Cole gave him a subtle, reassuring nudge with his elbow. Once they were out of earshot Cole spoke quietly.

"Quit looking so glum, baby. We can put this in the win column every way you look at it."

Baird shook his head a little, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. He wasn't sure if he was really watching Griffin or just waiting to spot a pillar of smoke coming from a burning packhorse up ahead.

"Something just doesn't feel right."

"You think we can't trust them?" Sam had picked up on the conversation and slowed her pace to fall in beside him.

"Of course we can't. But that's not it." Baird sighed, trying to evaluate how much of his feelings were intuition and how much were just good, old-fashioned Baird cynicism.

"We had problems with Stranded. We always thought Griffin was the source. So now we find out that there's _other_ Stranded giving those assholes trouble? What if we went through all this shit and the raids don't stop. What if there's just another Griffin out there telling _his_ guys to fuck up everything in their path? Then what?"

Sam shrugged. "Then we track him down, too."

Alex was up ahead, slightly behind Marcus and Anya. Now that no one was watching she didn't feel the need to try to out-Sergeant him. But based on the way her head turned slightly to the side, she was definitely listening in. If Jace had heard, he didn't show it.

"I think we need to stick to Hoffman's shoot-on-sight tactic. This truce bullshit will only give the bastards a chance to stroll right on in on a welcome mat before they blow our brains out." Baird kept his voice low. He didn't want Alex putting her two cents in, too. He'd already had enough of her for one day.

As they rounded the bend in the road that would put them out of the sightline of the gate, the packhorses came into view. Carmine was sitting on the hood of one chewing happily on a ration bar. Pad was leaning against the door behind him with his head resting against the frame and his eyes closed.

The two of them together represented the entire span of the world as anyone knew it. The Pendulum wars all the way up to the very end of the Lambent Pandemic. The weary soldier with years of battle etched on his face, his shockingly white hair shining in the sunlight, standing next to the young, sinewy powerhouse of a Gear who had practically grown up with a lancer in his hands. Anya caught herself smiling, but she couldn't quite figure out why.

Carmine gave an enthusiastic wave before dropping to his feet. "Looks like that went well."

"As well as it could have." Marcus trudged past him, oddly irritated given the situation. Maybe he had overheard Baird too. He shoved Griffin along to the back of the truck before hoisting him bodily into the flatbed. He made no effort to be gentle about it, not that anyone else would have done otherwise. Griffin groaned quietly as his face slid along the metal, despite his best efforts to contain it.

Marcus clambered up behind Griffin, securing his hands tightly to the side rails. He clearly wasn't in the mood to elaborate, so Anya took it upon herself to make up for the words he wouldn't bother to speak.

She kept her eyes on Marcus as she spoke, only slightly confused as to the source of his current agitation. She'd overheard, too, but she had a feeling there was something else eating at him. She nodded her head to Jace, gesturing for him to give Marcus a hand as she started to fill Pad and Carmine in.

"Ollivar's got his place back. Turns out an old friend of his is still around. The building wasn't rigged to blow. They're moving to Mercy, actually. The explosives were for the rear entrance of the town for an emergency seal off, if they needed to. Overall I'd call the mission a success." She shot a cautious look to Baird, just waiting for him to start running his mouth.

Her eyes were met with an impatient stare, but silence.

Marcus jerked his head to Jace for him to climb up into the flatbed. "Watch him," he said gruffly.

Hopping down he came to the front of the truck. "Sam, you're driving back. Anya can ride up front with you." Sam opened her mouth to protest but Marcus kept right on talking. "Cole, Baird; you're in the back with me. Jace, too. We aren't taking chances with this. Pad can follow. Alex and Carmine can ride in the back and keep a lookout. If anything goes wrong they can assist."

His orders were met with silence. No one bothered to argue. It seemed like the most logical plan.

But it never took long for plans to fail.

It was Pad's turn to get the distant, spacey look this time. His finger went to his ear slowly and he dipped his head, tilting it into his earpiece like he hadn't heard something right. He pressed his ear and spoke in a low voice with only a hint of concern giving away the depth of what he had heard.

"Hold on, sir. You're going to need to repeat that." Pad looked to Marcus, and the color was slowly draining from his face. "Switch your channel. We've got trouble."

* * *

**A/N: So, it finally happened. I've caught up with what I have completed. I'm still working on the story, of course, and still plan on updating on Tuesdays and Thursdays. If I -have- to drop down to one day a week, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. But as of now my current plan stands. Now, that being said, I live on the East coast in the states, so we're currently being pounded by a serious storm. They expect widespread outages and damage over the next two days. So if you don't see an update from me Thursday, that's why. As I type this, it's Monday morning. I can't edit documents from my phone, so I wrote this out ahead of time. If the power goes out, I lose my internet and won't be able to upload the next chapter. If that happens, I'll be uploading it as soon as our power comes back.**

**And as always, thanks for the support, the reviews, and follows, and the general awesomess. I appreciate every last bit of it.**


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30:**

Everyone's hands flew to their radios. Marcus made his way to the back of the packhorse again as he spoke, eager to get his eyes back on Griffin.

"Fenix here. Go ahead."

Hoffman responded in all their ears.

"We got a patchy transmission from the Oskeny settlement about twenty minutes ago." There was a short pause like he'd put his hand over the mike for a moment. "We still can't raise them. From what we could tell they had some unwelcome company. Have you got that Griffin asshole on a leash yet?"

Marcus grunted. "You could say that."

"Find out what he knows. If anything happened to those people because of him, you can shoot him and leave him in a ditch somewhere. Fuck the deal. Ollivar will get over it."

"That an official order?" Marcus eyed Griffin, who was staring over at him looking oddly satisfied. He wouldn't have been able to hear the radio, but he could tell there was something going on, and if it was bad news for the COG, it was probably good news for him.

"If it needs to be. Just see what you can find out. And Fenix? You're closer to them than we are. Send Griffin back with whoever you think can handle him and go pay them a visit. I need to know what's going on out there. It's not like I can send a damned Raven."

"Roger that. Fenix out."

Marcus dropped his hand and took a step closer to Griffin. There was no need to fill everyone else in; they'd heard it for themselves. He could go right for the answers and skip the slow dance.

"Somethin' funny?" Marcus' voice was a low growl. The smirk Griffin was sporting was visible, even under the makeshift gag.

Griffin chuckled, or at least something similar to it. He rested his head against the side rail, looking way too comfortable.

Alex took a few steps in their direction looking murderous. The Oskeny camp was her usual trade run. She'd made friends there. She knew nearly everyone's name. Rossi had been to bed with half the women there. The looming thought that the people could be hurt, or dead, left her blood boiling. The adrenaline still hadn't entirely worn off from the scuffle inside the tower, and the combination was set to be deadly.

"You're not gonna be laughing when I get through with you," she muttered.

Marcus put her arm out to stop her, earning him an intense glare. She looked like she was ready to channel that anger into a ruthless punch to his jaw, but she just balled her fist and let it hang at her side.

"We don't need to ask him. There's a whole city of people in there we just made friends with. One of them will know. No point in wasting our time when we've got people who need help." Marcus brought his hand up again and cycled back to the channel the city was using.

"Sergeant Fenix to Char. Anyone receiving?"

There was a hiss of static before a response came. It was Remy again.

"Fenix? Didn't you guys just leave?"

"Yeah, we just had a quick question. Is Ollivar around?" Marcus looked over the squad, running through scenarios in his head of how they'd split up.

"I'll track him down. Give me a minute," Remy said, and the radio went silent.

"Change of plans. Pad, you're driving back." Marcus' eyes kept going back to the flatbed. "Jace, Carmine, and Brand, you're on Griffin."

"No fucking way," Alex started.

"Not a discussion, Sergeant. You're taking him back to Hoffman and letting them do whatever they want with him. And I expect him to make it back to the fort in the same shape he's in now." Marcus had put on his serious voice again.

Alex wasn't giving in as easily this time.

"You can't pull rank on me. I _know_ that camp. I'm going."

"That's why you're not. You're too close to this. And I want a third person in the back of that pack."

"You went back to Mercy," she hissed. "You telling me you had distance from there?"

A heartbeat passed before Marcus was right in her face, towering over her. His voice was low, and eerily calm. "I'm telling you to keep your mouth shut for once, and do what you're fucking told."

Before she could respond Anya stepped forward and put her hands out, pressing them away from each other. She opened her mouth to start on the path to calming them down, but Marcus stepped back and put his finger back to his ear, instantly snapping out of the confrontation and back to the voice on the radio.

"Miss me already?" Ollivar sounded amused, and completely at ease. It wasn't taking him long to settle back in.

"We need to know if there's a group out from your city." Marcus didn't bother referring to them as 'Griffin's men'. It would only start an unnecessary tangent.

"I just got back from a long vacation. I'm not exactly up-to-date."

"Well find someone who is." Marcus was losing his patience again.

"Shit. You must have hit trouble." Ollivar didn't sound satisfied. A few weeks ago the idea of a squad of Gears running into trouble would have brought nothing but a smile to his face. But now with the truce still hanging in the air, pending a mutual display of trustworthy behavior, there was a good reason to be concerned.

Marcus didn't bother to respond at first, but the silence was lasting longer than he wanted to tolerate. Just before he gave in to the irritation the radio crackled in his ear.

This time it was Thomas.

"We're all accounted for, Fenix. Whatever you've hit, it's not us. But if you need an assist we've got a crew on standby. They were going to head to Mercy to start the prep-work, but they're still here."

He sounded sincere, but there was only so much you could tell over a radio. But eventually there was going to come a time when they'd have to test the strength of their new allegiance, and now seemed as good a time as any.

"You know anything about a small camp in Oskeny?"

"Only that it's there," Thomas replied.

"Hoffman got a weird transmission form them, and now they're not responding. He's thinking they're in trouble. If you want to send your crew along, that's where we're heading."

A fire burned in Alex's eyes. The fact that strangers, let alone _Stranded_ strangers would be going to defend the camp she'd been denied a trip to just moments ago had her nearly ready to start swinging again.

Thomas came back over the radio, keeping Marcus' focus. But he kept a careful eye on Alex, just waiting for the dam to burst.

"They won't know the way, but if you want to give them directions we'd be happy to help."

"Appreciate it. Hold on." Marcus waved Baird over as he let go of the radio. "Give them directions. Anya, listen in. You're driving. Then we move out."

Baird gave him a half-assed salute and a subtle roll of the eyes as he switched channels. He stepped to the side, giving Alex a wide berth. He didn't envy the shit she was about to lay on Marcus.

And she was ready. As soon as his eyes came back to her she was all set to start spewing all the venom she'd saved up over the years. But before she could he gave her a level stare.

"Save it. I'm not pulling rank. You're going back because I need you in that truck. And Rossi needs you back at base. We don't know what we're going into, and I'd never hear the end of it from him if something happened to you while he was stuck in a fucking hospital bed," Marcus said.

Her mouth dropped open for a moment. She found herself doubting all the things she thought she knew about him. The idea of being sent back to base when her squad was heading into unknown danger still had her stomach in knots, but there was just a hint of gratitude and awe somewhere deep within her. She'd just have to bury it and store it for later. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing she'd partly changed her opinion of him.

The silence hung over them for a moment, but there wasn't time to dwell on anything. He gave her a subtle nod before turning to Jace, Carmine, and Pad who were standing by awaiting the order to go.

"Move out. And watch your six. We have no idea what's going on. Eyes open," Marcus said.

Pad climbed into the driver's seat and the truck engine roared before settling into a low rumble. Jace and Carmine climbed into the flatbed, and Jace offered his hand out to Alex and pulled her up behind them. The three of them stood with their lancers at the ready before Jace thumped his boot against the metal bed.

Pad pulled the truck forward onto the road and shot a quick salute to Marcus before picking up speed.

Marcus sighed. He closed his eyes briefly, more of a long blink than anything else. But the bright blue intensity returned as he turned back to face the squad.

"Sam can take shotgun. We'll take the back."

Baird scoffed as he switched his channel back to Anvil Gate's, but a quick glare from Marcus silenced his sarcasm. He had considered commenting on the fact that Marcus was giving the women the safest jobs, but caught himself realizing he was mildly relieved to know Sam wouldn't be directly in the line of fire. For now, anyhow.

It was a sobering thought. He'd gone for years only worrying about Cole. The net of concern had gradually spread to the other members of his squad, but he could distinctly remember a time when he wouldn't have given a shit if Sam had been picked off by a drone. No more than any other Gear. He couldn't deny that there was something between them, not anymore. But the sudden realization that he felt better about her being slightly more out of harm's way had him wondering just how Marcus had managed to deal with Anya being put on the frontlines.

Too bad he'd never ask him about it. If word got out that Damon Baird was discussing his feelings, someone would have him committed. Hell, they'd build an asylum just to put him in it.

Besides, if he said anything in front of Sam she'd probably rip his balls off anyhow.

The three of them climbed into the back of the flatbed and Anya was already waiting for the rap on the ceiling to tell her to pull off. As the road became blurry ahead of them the realization that they once again had no idea what they were getting into slowly crept into everyone's mind.

Even Cole was unusually quiet. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, and just a ghost of a smile was on his face. The constant fluctuation between joy and anger, comfort and fear, was enough to weigh on the good nature of anyone.

Baird nudged him with his elbow and just raised an eyebrow. He wasn't about to start asking if he was alright, or offer him any sort of clichéd encouragement. They'd been friends long enough that he wouldn't need to.

Cole blinked a few times before his normal grin put light back into his face.

"Shit, I'm just thinking about all that food we've got waiting back at base. I was looking forward to dinner."

He was lying, but it didn't matter. Everyone said what they needed to, not always what they were thinking. But the years had done damage to everyone, and sometimes there was no point in piling your own problems onto someone else's.

"Where are Ollivar's men?" Marcus said, joining Cole in the hard stare forward.

"They're taking the back road around to the highway. We should beat them there by about ten minutes, give or take. I didn't tell them we'd wait for them. Had a feeling you wouldn't want to." Baird was getting anxious. He tried to tell himself it was hunger, or just annoyance at the inconvenience of having to go hours out of their way for something that could be nothing. But there was no pushing the idea out of his head that despite all the peace talks, another war was going to begin no matter what they tried to do.

"Good. We'll have enough trouble sorting out what's going on without them running in ahead of us," Marcus said.

Baird snorted. "Scared we won't know which ones to shoot? Because I'd go with anyone that doesn't drop their weapons when we say so. Or you could just follow the smell. Hard to ignore that special Stranded odor."

"Are you forgetting it's a Stranded camp we're going to save? Assuming they need saving," Marcus was completely still, even as the truck bounced along the uneven road. It was faintly disturbing.

"Those people aren't Stranded. I don't care where they happened to end up. It's not the same. They never decided to embrace the 'fuck you' attitude the rest of the assholes have towards us. As far as I'm concerned, they're just civvies with bad luck."

"Damon, that's one of the nicest things I've ever heard you say." Cole shot him a smile, and whatever discouragement had marred his face before was gone. He was back to the typical, easygoing Cole Train.

Baird was grateful. Morose Cole made him tense.

The radio in his ear startled him.

"Hoffman to Fenix. What's your location?"

Marcus didn't react. He must have left his radio on the city channel. Baird chuckled for a moment, reveling in the fact that he had thought of something Marcus hadn't. Baird nudged him on the arm and tapped his earpiece twice.

"Hoffman," he said, giving him an arrogant smirk.

Marcus gave him his irritated jaw twitch before changing the channel. "Fenix. Go ahead."

"How long until you reach the camp?"

"If Baird's estimate was any good, about forty minutes. Any word from them?" Marcus didn't think he was calling just to check in.

"Just another patchy call. We couldn't understand a damn word of it. Heard anything on your end?" Hoffman had that tone in his voice again that said he was just minutes away from streaming curses or keeling over, and the decision would only be made by the course of the conversation.

"Just that it's not Grif-" Marcus caught himself mid-word and barely stumbled over the correction. "It's not Ollivar's men behind it. He really seems to be taking this peace thing seriously. He's even sending us an assist."

"Well there's some good news. Just don't let them stand behind you if you need to open fire. I'd hate to see someone miss," Hoffman said. The information didn't seem to console him much, though. "Just let me know what the hell is going on as soon as you can. I hate being blind. We need to get our Ravens back up in the air."

Marcus swallowed and clenched his jaw. "Any word from Gettner or Matheison?"

The radio was quiet, and he filled in the silence with his own answer before Hoffman finally responded.

"Nothing yet, but I'll let you know when I do."

"Fair enough. Fenix out." Marcus rested his hand back on the roof to steady himself, aiming his lancer out ahead of them.

Anya's voice filled their ears. She didn't bother trying to yell over the wind. "Sam's running through channels trying to see if she can pick up anything. So far it's been quiet except for us. Pad checked in. No trouble, just keeping us in the loop."

She wanted so much to reassure them that everything would be alright. She wanted to tell them all that Gettner must be fine, and that the camp was just having radio trouble. She wanted to do her normal calming routine. But she let them all settle into comfortable radio silence instead. There was enough to keep everyone's mind occupied without her filling their time with useless chat.

But after another fifteen minutes or so, a soft thump hit the roof. Marcus' voice filled the cab from the console radio.

"Anyone else smell that?"

Anya inhaled deeply. Even with the windows down, the only thing she could smell was the warm, humid air and the incoming rain.

"What?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Smoke," came the gruff response.

"And not the festive barbeque kind," Baird said over the radio.

As they rounded another bend, they came into a break in the trees. The sides of the highway turned to open fields with overgrown grass and weeds. And up in the distance rose a thick, dark smoke.

"_Shit." _Marcus muttered. "That doesn't look like a small house fire to me. Come on, hit the gas. We'll be fine. Just get us over there." Marcus always took the weight of the world on his shoulders and blamed himself for nearly every casualty. Whatever had happened, there was no doubt it would only compound his guilt.

Anya pressed her foot down, and the packhorse gradually picked up speed. The few remaining fence posts and low bushes flew by at sickening speeds. The lingering fear of being unable to spot an upcoming threat when you were hurtling towards it was becoming overwhelming, but she just pushed it aside. She counted on Sam to keep up her end of the work and let part of her CIC brain take over. Visualize the field, analyze the possibilities, asses the risk. The best she could do was concentrate on the current situation and try to leave the less pressing matters for later.

But as they grew closer to the smoke, there was no denying that it was coming from the small settlement they'd been to just days ago. Breath was collectively being held as they waited to see just how bad the damage was. If the radio transmissions had stopped, they could only assume there was a terrible reason for it.

Baird took another look at Cole. The doubt was flickering on his face again. They'd only met the people once, but Cole was already torn up about the possibilities. He was already thinking about the women and kids, and the young man that ran the camp and deserved a better childhood than the one he'd gotten. He caught Baird staring and gave him a half-hearted nod.

He returned the gesture, but he was only doing it for Cole's sake. He knew Cole would be torturing himself when they got there and found the inevitable pile of bodies. Cole would be playing the short conversations he'd had with them in his head, and he'd be coming back to base to write a long letter to his mom about all the things he wished he could change.

That was the problem with liking people. There was only so much time in the day, and if you wasted it dwelling on the lives of people you barely knew because you were too nice to forget them you didn't have enough time to look out for yourself.

If only he could teach Cole that.

* * *

**A/N: Huzzah! I survived the storm, and fortunately so did our power. To my fellow east coasters, I only hope you make a quick recovery from whatever damage you have to deal with. Love. **


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31:**

The last twenty minutes of the drive went by in excruciating silence. No one wanted to bother with small talk. There was no sense in competing over who had created the most disturbing mental image in their head of what the small town would look like when they got there.

But no amount of discussion would have prepared them for what they saw. Or didn't see.

Marcus and the others barely waited for the truck to come to a complete stop before launching themselves out of the flatbed. Anya and Sam weren't far behind as they jogged towards the gate, or what was left of it.

The chain link was mangled and crushed beneath a small jeep. Whoever had driven through it obviously wasn't getting the vehicle back, but that didn't seem to slow them down.

The entire skyline of the town had been changed. If Baird hadn't been there so recently, he ever would have believed it was the same town. Even the water tower had fallen. Three of the four support legs had been blown clean apart.

As Baird took a few steps closer to the remnants of the tower, he noticed an arm poking out from under a steel beam. Quickening his pace, he called out to the others.

"Hey, think I got something."

The others jogged over to catch him before he had time to tell them not to bother.

As soon as he got around behind the beam, a familiar face was staring up at him. Alek's bald head was blood streaked and crushed. His eyes were wide open, but entirely lifeless.

"Damnit. It's Alek." Baird muttered. He wasn't sure if he was telling the others or just confirming it to Cole. "He was the one who ran this camp. We met him when we did the trade run."

Marcus was still frowning. He grunted, mostly an acknowledgement, before gesturing for them to move on. There was obviously nothing they could do for Alek now. They could only concentrate on what they could do, and worry about yet another burial once they'd cleared the area.

The stone buildings were still standing, but flames leapt from the windows and were eating away at the roofs. The thick smoke was already overwhelming and they hadn't even made it past the first building. But the most disturbing part was how still everything was.

Amidst the outwardly chaotic appearance of flames and smoke, and the sounds of wood snapping and creaking under the immense heat, there was a unnerving silence. No calls for help. No screams. Nothing.

"Good thing Carmine's not here to tell us how helpful a helmet would be." Baird had come to a stop and was scanning the buildings, trying to get his bearings and assess the damage.

Marcus came up next to him and did a quick scan of the buildings, an intense frown wrinkling his face. "Just shut up and check what you can. You and Cole take the east side. We'll take the west."

"What exactly do you expect us to find?" Baird blinked rapidly, trying to will his eyes not to water under the acrid smoke.

"If someone's still alive, we need to get them out of here. Go." Marcus turned and jogged away, with Anya right behind him. Sam shot Baird an anxious look before turning to follow. Now wasn't the time to start arguing about squad divisions, but she wasn't entirely thrilled with the way the separation worked out.

Cole tugged Baird's arm.

"Come on, baby. Ain't no shame in having some hope." But his face betrayed him.

Baird shook his head and followed, wondering just how many more events like this could occur before Cole would finally lose the ability to stay so damn optimistic.

The first standing building that showed any promise was showing flames on the second story, but the downstairs was only smoking. But after poking his head in the door and calling out, Marcus had only received silence as an answer.

Sam and Anya had proceeded ahead, knocking on doors that didn't look like they were about to be engulfed in flames, opening those that looked safe enough. For such a small group, the three of them were making a hell of a lot of noise. But they'd cleared nearly half of the town and hadn't seen or heard a single person.

Baird and Cole were having the same luck. Most of the buildings on the east side of the camp were wooden and had already begun to collapse. Cole had made his way to a small house that had all but smoldered out. He nudged some of the rubble with his boot.

"How long does it take for a house to burn down?" Cole said, furrowing his brow as he stared down intently.

Baird took a moment to step into the center of the road and get as clean of a breath as he could before the smoke started to do permanent damage.

"Wooden houses of this size? Maybe thirty minutes. So quit beating yourself up. We couldn't have gotten here any faster." He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, steeling himself for the rest of the futile task. But Cole's voice stopped him short.

"Aww, shit…"

Baird turned to see Cole leaning down, staring into something charred and smoking. He didn't want to ask what it was, but he knew Cole would tell him anyway.

"It's a…Shit, Damon, it's a _kid._" Cole went from looking disturbed to utterly defeated. He stood, staring at the ground where the charcoaled remnants of a body laid buried under wooden beams.

Baird sighed heavily as he walked over. This wasn't going to sit well with Cole, and he knew it.

"Come on, man. Nothing we can do." He nudged him with his elbow and Cole gave a last, long look at the small corpse before his expression turned to fuming anger.

As they walked away towards the center of town, hoping to complete their half and meet with the others, Cole spoke in a low and even voice.

"When we find the motherfuckers behind this-"

"I know, Cole." Baird cut him off. It wasn't disrespect, or even irritation. He just knew that the longer he dwelled on that little kid back there, all charbroiled and crispy, the harder time he'd have dealing with it later. Cole had a weak spots for kids, and Baird knew it.

He always told himself he did things to keep Cole happy because the rest of the squad needed him to be. He'd never admit how much he needed Cole, too. Even if they all knew it.

The west side of town wasn't looking anymore promising. By the time they'd completed the circle and could see Baird and Cole up ahead checking the last few houses, they hadn't found anything promising. Even the stone buildings were nothing but burnt shells by now. The flames were dying down in some of them, as they'd finally run out of fuel and kindling.

Sam was covered in soot and ash. One of the doors she'd pushed open had fallen in, and she'd toppled in after it. But she was still in better shape than she'd been when she was stuck in a rig filling with polyps, so she wasn't about to complain. At least this time she got to keep her eyebrows.

Anya had pulled a small handkerchief from her belt pouch and was holding it over her face. The smoke was getting to her more than she wanted to admit, but she knew she wouldn't have been any use to them if she passed out from inhaling too much.

Marcus had taken the chance of going in to a few houses that hadn't been fully engulfed in flames. The smoke felt like it had soaked into his skin. And if people weren't responding to the loud bellows from Marcus, there was no one around to respond. He pulled his bandana off and wiped the soot from his face with it before returning it to his head. He fell in next to Anya and Sam, completely silent with a deep frown casting a dark shadow over his face.

The two groups closed their circle in front of a large stone building. It was four stories, by Baird's best guess, and it looked like the fire had only taken over the topmost floor. Smoke rolled from the windows, but there weren't any visible flames.

"If you plan on playing firemen, you' may want to keep in mind that there's no fucking water." Baird kept a careful eye on Cole, not that Marcus was in an eye contact sort of mood anyhow. "And you may want to cancel that assist. Not much they can do here except watch everything burn."

Marcus nodded and stepped away. Baird wasn't sure if he was calling Ollivar's men or Hoffman, but he didn't bother listening in. The message would be the same either way.

"Anyone else notice the lack of people?" Sam caught Baird's attention when she spoke, breaking his stare from the still sullen Cole.

He caught himself before laying into her for being stupid. If she was that much of a mess, he could only imagine the ridiculous risks she'd taken to get that way. And with an arm still on the mend she shouldn't have been taking those chances. The guilt flickered in her eyes when they met his, only exacerbating his frustration.

And once he realized he was yet again spreading himself too thin when it came to his capacity for worrying about others, he started the mental beat down on himself for allowing himself to become a person who cared about others. It was exactly what he'd been telling everyone not to be for years, and here he was trying to figure out who needed him more.

"Oh, we found someone." Cole's face and tone clearly conveyed that it wasn't a successful rescue sort of find.

Sam sighed. "But just one?"

Cole nodded, and his nose wrinkled a little like he'd once again remembered the small, shriveled body he'd uncovered.

"Exactly. Didn't you guys say this town was populated? Where did the people go?"

"They'd have heard us yelling if they were here. You think they were taken?" Anya took a moment to lean back against a low stone wall and take a long drink from her canteen. It was the most worn down she'd ever looked.

"What, like hostages?" Sam asked.

"Why not? The grubs did," Baird replied.

Marcus had made his way back over and shot Baird a cold stare.

Neither of them had fond memories triggered when the Locust hostages were mentioned. Baird typically assumed that being taken by the locust and rescued shortly before imminent torture was a pretty serious negative association. But when you were competing with someone who'd found his best friend's wife practically a zombie after being a victim of the grubs, then had to tell the poor bastard that it was ok to put a bullet in her head, it was no contest.

Not that anyone would want to win that particular game.

"There _are_ no more grubs," Marcus growled. "_People_ did this."

"I know. The grubs were obvious monsters. This is just destruction for the sake of chaos, and the _people_ that did this are worse than the grubs ever were." Baird met his stare with confidence. Whatever Marcus wanted to believe about the human race, there was no denying that he was right.

Marcus gave a resigned sigh. Baird wasn't sure if he just wasn't in the mood to argue or if he refused to admit that Baird was right.

"Let's just check this building and get the hell out of here. Ollivar's men are gonna circle the town and let us know if they find anything, but I'm thinking whoever did this is long gone."

Anya came up next to him, staring at the smoldering building. "If anyone was alive in there, they'd had heard us."

"Unless they're trapped." Sam was planted firmly on Baird's side when it came to her opinion of the people responsible for this. "What if they're tied up, or locked in?"

Marcus jerked his head towards the building. "Baird, Cole. You're with me." He gave a stern look to Anya. "Keep your channels open, and stay here. If anything happens, I want to know about it."

As much as she didn't relish the idea of him charging into a burning building, she knew Sam was right. She gave him a reluctant nod.

"Same to you, Sergeant," she said as she flipped her radio to transmit

Sam did the same before pulling her lancer from her back and turning away from the building, doing long scans of the town.

"Just be careful, you bloody idiots." Sam didn't bother to turn around. "The two of us wouldn't have an easy time dragging your oversized asses out of there, and I'd hate to have to choose which one of you gets to cook."

She put up a good front. All the years of being a sarcastic, venom spewing bitch really helped mask the legitimate fear she was feeling. Only people that really knew her would have picked up on it.

Unfortunately for her that applied to everyone in the squad, meaning no one was buying her act.

As Marcus, Cole and Baird made their way through the doors and disappeared from view, Anya came up next to Sam and mirrored her stance.

They stood there in silence for a long time. Marcus, Cole and Baird seemed to alternate in their ears, shouting for anyone that may have been left inside.

Anya nudged Sam with her elbow. She spoke softly, hoping the guys would drown each other out. "Come on. We'll circle the building. No sense in just standing here."

Sam shrugged and fell in next to her. Their pace was slow, almost comically relaxed considering their surroundings. She sighed, staring down at the ground as they proceeded down the side of the building.

"You ever think we're just _too_ used to this? That we're not even affected by the violence anymore?"

Anya's brow furrowed as she shook her head. "We're all affected, Sam. We've just had too many years of practice at hiding how much."

Sam conceded that she was right. After all, she couldn't very well deny that things never affected her. She managed to turn most of whatever fear and terror she'd felt into a fuming anger, and funneled it into the current adversary. But there were definitely things that haunted her, even if she only acknowledged them in her sleep.

They'd seen Locust chain sawed in half, from countless angles. They'd watched Gears go down in the line of duty, and in gruesome ways. Brumaks had blown Ravens out of the sky above them. Former humans had swarmed them in Mercy, screeching and begging for death. But no amount of years, or horror, or monsters would have prepared anyone for what they found as they reached the rear of the building and turned the corner.

Sam caught her gasp in her throat, but Anya barely kept from screaming. Instead all that came out was a harsh, jagged whisper.

"Oh, my God…"

"What? What's wrong?" Marcus filled their ears. For someone who was preoccupied with clearing a burning building he certainly had been listening closely for any hint of trouble.

In another circumstance Sam would have remarked that it was romantic, for a Gear anyhow. But all she could do was stare ahead with her jaw hanging open, frozen in place.

"Anya? Sam? What the hell is going on down there?" Marcus' patience was already worn incredibly thin from the circumstances. The radio silence wasn't doing him any favors.

Sam managed to find her voice, but it came out uncharacteristically small.

"We found the people." She swallowed hard and stopped herself from gagging. "I think you can stop looking."


	32. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER 32:**

Sam inched forward along the dirt path that wrapped around the building. Anya crept up behind her, still silent.

Up ahead was a large water well that had been sealed off a long time ago. When the locust had emerged and stories of their tunnels spread, people tended to seal off any access to wells or other underground access points.

But it wasn't the well that had stopped them in their tracks. Piled up in front of the old, worn stone circle were the bodies of men, women, and children. They were stacked haphazardly, limbs jutting out at odd angles like they'd been tossed without a bit of care or thought. The faces that were visible sported single bullet entry holes on their foreheads, their expressions frozen forever in a gruesome mix of fear and pain.

Based on the quick assessment of the mountain of corpses, Anya could only assume they'd been taken out of their homes and executed systematically before being tossed aside like garbage. Of all the casualties she'd seen over the years, something about this was excruciating. Maybe it was the sheer volume, and the mix of women and children among the men, combined with the helplessness of it all. Whatever the reason, Anya found herself struggling to keep her tone even. But she managed.

"It's bodies, Marcus. Over a hundred, probably. Women. Kids. Everyone." She kept her sentences short, giving herself time to process the scattered thoughts in her mind. "They're dead. All of them. Executed."

There was a long beat of silence on the radio. Sam swore she could hear Cole exhale slowly, but he didn't speak.

"Shit," Marcus finally responded. "Where the hell are you?" He tried to keep a lid on his frustration. He knew better than to bother chastising them for abandoning their post, which they must have done unless the bodies suddenly fell in front of them.

"Behind the building. I'm sorry." Anya could hear the reprimand buried under the guise of a question. But of all the things she was feeling, guilt for disobeying a minor order fell pretty low on the priority list.

"Just go back around front. We'll be down in a minute." The radio went quiet, save for the sound of boots crunching over assorted floors and substances, and the occasional creak of a door opening.

They stood at a reasonable distance from the massive pile, still staring. Just as Anya was about to speak for the sake of filling the silence a sudden explosion shattered the low level of noise.

Instinct took over as Sam and Anya dove against the building, pressing their backs to the wall and trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound. The radio became frantic.

"What the fuck was that?" Baird asked.

"Did that come from inside?" Sam's eyes darted back and forth as she swept her sightline with her lancer.

"Anya, Sam. You copy? Are you okay?" That was Marcus.

"We're fine. It didn't come from us." Anya managed to hide just how rattled she was. "I take it that wasn't you?"

Marcus cursed under his breath. "No. Shit. Just keep your heads down. We're coming."

Anya switched her radio to receive only, and Sam followed suit.

"Sounded like it came from the gate to me." Sam peered cautiously around the corner of the building for a moment, keeping a firm grip on her rifle. "You up for investigating?"

Anya checked her magazine, reassuring herself. "I'd rather wait for them."

Sam pressed her back flat against the wall again, looking out ahead of them. Beyond the mountain of corpses was a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. And beyond that was thick, dense forest. The visibility into the trees was nearly nonexistent.

"I don't know about you, but I don't exactly enjoy being a sitting duck." She nodded towards the fence line. "Can _you_ tell if anyone is out there?"

Anya squinted into the distance and did a quick scan. "No, but I can't see through the building, either. How do we know no one is heading this way through town?"

Sam sighed. She hated not knowing where the threat was. The Locust were huge bastards. They didn't bother sneaking around much. Knowing that there were people nearby who probably wanted her dead, and having no idea where they were put a knot in the pit of her stomach.

_Fuck it. _

"Wait here. I'll make sure it's clear." Sam spun around the corner and disappeared from view.

Anya could practically hear Marcus in her head yelling at Sam to come back. She could only be grateful he wouldn't have heard them. A few long seconds went by as she debated on following behind for cover. Before she could call out and tell Sam to wait, gunfire shattered the silence. Anya pressed her back to the wall again and quickly flipped her radio back on before returning both hands to her lancer.

"What's going on?" Behind Marcus' low growl of a voice there were heavy, rapid thuds. He'd picked up his pace to a jog.

"It's alright. Just pinned down. East side of the building," Sam replied.

"What are you doing over there?" It was Baird this time, sounding a little annoyed.

"The building backs to the woods. I checked to see if the front was clear. And surprise, it's not," Sam shot back. She sounded calmer than she should have.

"How many?" Marcus asked. The heavy sound of boots had stopped. They must have made it to the front doors. And where exactly are you two pinned?"

"Anya's still around back." Sam said it quickly, hoping to move right past the lecture.

But he wasn't going to let that one go.

"_What?" _Marcus voice became dangerously low. Before he could properly lay into them, Anya's voice broke over the radio.

"I'm fine. I'll cut around the other side. So far it's clear back here."

More gunfire sounded from the front side of the building. There was an almost audible tension in the silence that followed.

"Can everyone just stay the hell put for once?" Baird finally cut in. "We're at the door. As soon as we punch holes in whoever is on the other side, we'll be around to get you."

"My knight in shining bloody armor," Sam muttered. There was a bitterness in her tone, but it was unclear if she wasn't enjoying the prospect of needing rescue or if she was just frustrated with the entire situation.

"You're fucking welcome," he shot back. "Unless you want to make a run for the truck."

"Uh, guys? You may want to rethink that option." Anya's voice was quiet. I've got a visual on the pack. Well, part of it. I think I know what the explosion was."

Marcus gave a low groan over the radio. "I'm guessing even Baird couldn't fix that."

"Doubtful." Anya's voice didn't give away the defeat she was feeling. She wouldn't let it. But after brief rustling her tone shifted from confidence to distracted hesitation.

"Wait one. I think one of the bodies is moving."

"Leave 'em. For now, anyway. We've got bigger problems. I don't want you joining them." Marcus' tone rivaled hers in the distracted category. "Once we've got this dealt with we can check them out."

"I'm stuck back here anyhow. Might as well do some good." Anya refused to ask permission. She didn't need it. She was the highest ranking officer there. But there was no sense in pointing that out. It just wasn't the way the squad functioned.

"Do your good once we've got the area secure." He wouldn't phrase it as an order. The balance was always carefully maintained between the two of them.

But before she could respond more gunfire shattered the delicate silence.

It went on for longer this time. The short bursts overlapped in enveloped the town in a cloud of noise and chaos.

The flames and smoke did little to aid in the attempt to regain some clarity. It only came as a strong reminder that the building they were in was slowly burning above them. The choice between slowly burning to death or suffocating and being peppered with rounds was incredibly unsettling.

Baird was, of course, the first to point it out.

"Can we at least become _moving_ targets for those assholes?" He poked his lancer out over a window ledge and sprayed blindly ahead. "Because the way I see it, I'll take a bullet to the head over combustion."

"Well if you keep your bright fucking hair out of sight and your head down it won't get blown off," Sam said just before a burst of fire came through her radio.

She made a sound that could have been a laugh. "Shit. I got one."

"Good. We're keeping score," Baird responded over the sound of his own lancer.

Marcus took advantage of a lull in the gunfire and peered through the crack where the door used to meet the frame.

"I count at least six still standing." He paused, mentally rechecking his figures with the limited field of vision he had. "Could be more. Let's run on the assumption that there are."

"We need some bloody back-up. Where the hell is that assist?" Sam slammed another clip home and sprayed another burst of fire.

The radio became suddenly and overwhelmingly loud. In the background of the brief static there was an all too familiar sound.

"Someone call for an assist?" Gettner cut in, the steady sound of Raven blades filling the silence behind her.

The relief was brief, but incredible. The sound hit a primal nerve in each of them. The part of their brain that knew that sound meant rescue, and _home. _

"I have never been so happy to hear your voice in my _life_, baby," Cole said, and he meant every word of it.

"You can flatter me later, Cole Train. Once I get you guys in the air." Even Gettner sounded happy. Or as happy as she had recently.

"What's your twenty?" Marcus cut in, coughing through the last syllable. The smoke was starting to get thicker on the bottom floor, and it was going to force them out soon enough. "We don't have a lot of time before we need to move."

"I missed you too, Sergeant," Gettner shot back. "But don't worry. I can certainly see you. You could have sent up a more subtle smoke signal."

"Yeah, you're fuckin' hilarious. Just come get us the hell out of here, will you?" Marcus cut his transmission mid-cough. If he really was suffering in there, he wasn't about to broadcast it.

"In the interest of avoiding friendly fire, wanna give me a better idea of where exactly you are? Or do you want me to just go with my instincts?"

"There's a stone building on the north side of the camp. It's the biggest friggin' one. Huge stone thing. Can't miss it." It was Baird this time. His voice was strained, but he tried to make it a little less obvious that he was giving Marcus a chance to breathe.

"We're fresh out of green smoke, so you'll just have to try to miss us." Cole chuckled, but it sounded forced.

"Noted. Commencing cover fire."

The scattered sounds of the typical gunfire was suddenly replaced with the distinct sound of the chain gun. Barber chuckled quietly over the radio.

"That one won't be returning fire. You want me to leave any for the rest of you?" He didn't wait for them to answer before the steady gun noise fell back into its rhythm.

Inside the building, Marcus turned to Baird and Cole, who'd taken up a position on the right side of the door across from him.

"We need to get out of here. If the bullets don't kill us, the smoke will." Marcus grumbled. He wasn't particularly fond of either choice.

"I'm pretty sure their focus will be on, oh, I don't know, the giant fucking Raven shooting at them. If we're going, we need to go." Baird coughed, and it sounded worse than it had just moments ago.

"We'll clear the road enough for Gettner to land and get the fuck out of here. On three." Marcus pressed his body against the door frame, reaching for the doorknob before beginning the countdown.

When he hit three he threw the door open and returned his hand to the rifle in a movement so fluid it was as if he'd practiced. Cole burst out ahead, spraying an arc of fire wide through the center of the road leading up to the door. Baird and Marcus fell in behind him, keeping a tight formation.

The chain gun was still kicking up dust in the center of the road up ahead. Whatever Barber could see they couldn't, but they could at least see where he was aiming.

"How many?" Marcus asked.

"Three down for good," Barber said. "One's definitely hit, but he crawled into the building on your two. Considering how fast it's burning, I don't see him coming out. You've got two more that took off once their buddies went down. Headed back towards the gate. We'll double back and lay down some fire in the woods."

The Raven peeled off and did a one-eighty, turning towards what was left of the gate.

"We've got an assist from Ollivar's camp. Make sure you're not lighting them up, too," Cole said.

"Ollivar? You _found_ that asshole?" Gettner asked.

"Long story. I'll fill you in when I don't have anyone trying to kill me," Baird replied.

Gettner scoffed. "With the way you make friends that could be a while."

"I forgot what a ray of sun shine you were. Would you just land that damn bird so we can get the hell out of here?" Baird swept the road with his eyes as the three of them made their way forward slowly. While Gettner and Barber were busy doing their last sweep, they intended on making damn sure those men were dead, or at the very least unable to keep shooting.

A low stone wall that had originally served as a fence for a neighboring building had been their source of cover. There were two undeniably dead men lying in puddles of blood slumped up against the wall. At the very least, they'd held onto their rifles until the end.

Baird shoved one of the bodies with his boot, sending it sliding over against the other. There was an odd satisfaction in kicking the corpse of the asshole who'd been trying to ruin your day with a few rifle rounds.

And unfamiliar voice came over the radio.

"Sergeant Fenix?"

"Fenix here. Who's this?"

"My name's Kellan, sir. Thomas sent us for back up." He paused briefly, leaving an opening for any questions. When none came, he continued. "We're in a truck on the west side of the town, but we haven't seen anything yet. Couldn't help but overhear that's your Raven circling."

"It is. Gettner, you got eyes on them?"

Gettner came back. "I've got 'em. We lost the other two, though. Ready to call it a day?"

"You have no idea," Baird mumbled.

Kellan's voice came back in their ears. "We'll make a few circles around, Fenix. If we find anything, we'll let you know, but it looks clear from where we are."

"Sounds good. Thanks." Marcus took one last look over at the building that Barber had watched the last guy run into. It was slowly crumbling away, and the fire had all but consumed it. A man with a bullet wound wasn't making it out of there alive without help.

"Alright people, pack it in." Marcus raised his voice over the sound of the approaching rotors of the Raven. "Sam, Anya, it's all clear. Unless you still want to check out that pile." Marcus felt almost ashamed that he'd briefly forgotten about Anya's request. He was ready to turn around and head back to meet her when she answered.

Her voice was soft, and quiet. "No. I'm coming."

"You got trouble?" Cole asked, just as the Raven touched down. Baird put one foot into the Raven, glancing back to see where the others were.

Sam emerged from the side of the building, smiling broadly at the sight of the rest of the squad. She was feeling that giddy relief that came once you knew the threat had been neutralized.

"No." Anya answered. But she sounded more bewildered than anything else.

Baird pulled himself into the Raven as Sam closed in. Cole waited for Sam to climb in after him before following, groaning at the thought of yet another flight.

"Hope ya'll brought me a bucket."

Marcus stood outside of the door, staring hard at the side of the building Anya should have been coming from based on her last check in. It was then that he realized she'd switched her radio off again, and was mentally running through the possibilities of what her reasoning would have been.

Anya came around the corner and caught sight of the Raven. Her eyes looked distant, but there was a flicker of relief on her face. She jogged towards them, clutching a small coat firmly against her chest. Her lancer had been clipped to her back.

Marcus came close to sighing with relief, but the sergeant in him was telling him all the things that had been handled poorly during this entire ordeal. He tilted his head slightly, but kept silent. He wasn't about to be like Hoffman, turning his worry into a reprimand in front of the rest of the squad.

"Hurry up, damn it. I'm friggin' starving." Baird shouted from inside.

Marcus clenched his jaw as she closed the gap between them. "No survivors?" He had to raise his voice over the noise of the Raven. He stepped aside, making room for her to get past him into the safety of the Raven's bay.

Anya's eyes went a little wider, and something close to a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She came to a stop in front of him.

"Just one." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and impossible to hear.

But he didn't need to hear her. He looked down at the coat she was carrying as she lowered one hand and tugged the collar aside.

Wrapped up snugly in the tattered brown coat held tightly against her chest, squirming but quiet, was a tiny red faced infant.


	33. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33:**

"Didn't know we had precious cargo." Gettner looked over her shoulder as Anya hoisted herself up, with the help of Marcus, into the raven bay.

Baird was resting his head against the back of his seat with his eyes closed. The adrenaline had started to wear off, and he was anxious to get off the ground.

"Hoffman didn't tell you I was here?" he said. The sarcasm sounded a little more forced than usual, but Sam just chalked it up to exhaustion.

She had taken a place between Baird and Cole, feeling sufficiently crushed, but if nothing else she felt secure. She started to chuckle, but stopped herself as Anya came into view.

Elbowing Baird in the side, Sam sat straight up in her seat, leaning forward as she tried to figure out exactly what Anya was holding.

"I don't think she meant you, blondie. Look."

Baird sighed and sat up, looking over to see what all the fuss was about. Cole was already staring at the tiny bundle in her arms.

She took a seat directly across from him, pressed up against Marcus as Barber slid the door closed.

The Raven started to lift, and the sound from the rotors was muffled now. They'd be in the air for just over an hour, and the silence was already starting to feel suffocating.

"I know the COG is low on funds, but they'd probably be able to find you a clean coat somewhere." Baird dropped his head back, agitated at the pointless disruption.

Anya stared down into her arms, and Cole put the pieces together.

"Tell me it's alive."

Stress did strange things to people. Cole knew as well as anyone that sometimes you do things that don't make sense because it just feels right at the time. Despite his constant optimism, there was a raw twinge of fear somewhere deep inside his brain that Anya had found something that needed a proper burial.

Marcus was staring straight ahead, jaw clenched and ever unreadable. Though only seconds passed Cole felt like he was going to have to shake an answer out of someone if it didn't come on its own.

But his question had gotten Baird's attention again, and Sam's had never left. Suddenly all three of them were staring across the tiny space, waiting anxiously for some type of explanation.

Anya gave a slow nod, still staring down. She pulled aside the collar of the coat gingerly, revealing the face of the now sleeping child.

"Holy shit." Even Baird was fresh out of jokes for the moment. "Where the hell did you find that?"

Cole groaned. "Don't tell me _that_ was the body you saw moving."

Anya nodded again. "The woman was still holding him. I guess it was his mother." She finally tore her eyes away from the baby. "I couldn't just leave him there."

"Damn right you couldn't." The shock had momentarily taken Cole's focus, but he was starting to look a little green. He still managed to keep himself steady.

"What are you going to do with it?" Baird sat back in the seat again, but he was anything but relaxed.

"Take him to the doc when we get back." Anya looked down with a faint smile again. "He's the luckiest kid in the world right now."

"I'll say. First class flight home." Gettner had been listening in.

"Technically, home for him is that barbeque back there," Baird said.

Sam shot him a silencing glare. "Not anymore, it's not."

An uncomfortable silence fell like a thick blanket over them for a while. Cole eventually disappeared into the rear section to empty his guts into a bucket for the duration of the trip. For the longest time the only ambient noise was hushed conversation from the cockpit and Cole heaving behind them. The minutes ticked by slowly, but eventually Gettner's voice filled the silence again.

"We're about five minutes out. Hoffman's not particularly pleased with me, but for what it's worth he sounded relieved. I didn't warn him about our little passenger."

Anya sighed deeply as the baby began to stir. She counted her blessings that they'd be on the ground before he had a chance to work up a good cry. She looked over to Marcus expected his eyes to still be fixed ahead, or closed in the typical Marcus fashion; heading off the illusion that he wanted to talk.

Instead she found him staring not at the baby, but at her.

She had never wished so hard that she knew what he was thinking.

* * *

"Vic, if you don't stop pacing, that Raven's gonna land on your bloody head."

Bernie was leaning against the massive stone pillar beside the gate, trying to exude calm for Hoffman's sake. Truthfully she was as anxious for them to land as he was, but she wasn't going to let him know that.

Pad was sitting on a low stone wall next to her, running a cloth over his longshot to pass the time.

Alex and the others had come in with Griffin just a short time ago. Griffin had been secured in one of the storage closets. He'd foolishly asked how long they planned to keep him there, and Hoffman warned him they'd let him rot if he didn't keep his mouth shut.

Now Jace and Carmine were making their way over from The Mess. They'd asked Bernie to call them once the Raven was close. Even Dizzy had come along this time, tearing himself away from Betty long enough to see how things went. He'd heard about the camp, and wasn't having an easy time waiting for news.

Weighing the amount of time that had passed since Bernie had called them, Hoffman started his circle back towards Bernie.

"They said five minutes," he started.

"They'd call if they hit trouble." Bernie was trying her best not to chuckle at him. "Don't worry, Dad. The kids are alright."

Hoffman pulled his cap off and rubbed his head, running his hand over his face and letting it linger there for a moment as he sighed deeply.

Replacing his cap, he cocked his head to the side and squinted up into the fading sunlight. "Hear that?"

"Beautiful music to my ears," Bernie said contentedly. She'd never tire of that feeling she got deep in her chest every time she heard those rotors.

The Raven appeared on the horizon just a few moments later.

Pad slung his rifle back over his shoulder and rose to join the rest of them as they slowly made their way towards the clearing the Raven would inevitably touch down in. The seconds ticked by like hours before the landing skids finally came to rest on the ground. The engine went quiet, and the rotors gradually slowed.

Marcus pulled the door open, and the gradual procession began. Baird pushed himself out first, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

"Damn. We even got a welcome home party. You must be falling apart without us," he said, sounding every bit as arrogant as ever.

Sam had come behind him, followed closely by Cole, who'd finally pulled his head out of the bucket. By the time the rotors completely stopped Hoffman had come up next to the Raven, trying to decide which order of business to attend to first.

He wanted the update, and he wanted to tell Gettner exactly how he felt about her keeping them all in the dark for so long.

But the look on Marcus' face when he finally climbed out of Raven caught him off guard.

The typical, stoic expression with a hint of a permanent frown was replaced by a totally new one. After all the years they'd worked together, Hoffman couldn't remember a time that Marcus didn't look pissed, or indifferent. But now he just looked blank.

Hoffman's heart sank just a little. He refused to let his mind start filling in gaps that the silence was leaving.

"Don't tell me.." He couldn't bear to finish the thought. He was certain that if anything had happened to Anya they would have told him. This _had_ to be something else. It just had to be. Marcus didn't look upset, as he undoubtedly would be. But then again, there was only so much one man could take before he shut down completely.

Marcus jerked his head towards the Raven as Anya emerged clutching the small bundle with both hands as she delicately tried to step down. Marcus finally stepped in and took a hold of her elbow, aiding her efforts.

"Bringing back souvenirs, Lieutenant?" Hoffman's tone did little to mask the immense relief he felt in seeing the whole squad come back in one piece.

"Not exactly." She angled the bundle just right so he could see the now bright-eyed baby in her arms.

"Well, I'll be damned." Hoffman chuckled a little, but it was a dry uncomfortable sound. "Where'd you find that?"

Anya's face fell a little. "That settlement," she started, but she couldn't bring herself to finish.

Marcus stepped a little ahead of her, taking it upon himself to complete the story. He shook his head once, the grim frown creeping its way back onto his face like it'd been there all along.

"They're all gone. Men, women, everyone."

Hoffman did a quick scan of the rest of the squad, trying to gauge their reactions. Marcus' face never gave anything away, but the others would.

Sam's face said it all. She stared at the ground with her eyes closed, shaking her head sadly. Cole was staring off into the distance, trying way too hard to keep a stiff frown. Baird noticed Hoffman looking and mimed a pistol to his forehead, all matter-of-factly.

"That kid is the only one that wasn't dead," Marcus said. He paused briefly, glancing over his shoulder at Anya. Lowering his voice, even though she was close enough to hear, he continued. "She found him in a pile of bodies."

Anya flinched, but kept her eyes on the baby. She stroked its cheek gently as it squirmed in her arms.

Hoffman could feel the blood rushing to his face. He thought that he'd gotten past the point of anger over every last civvie they'd lost. And those people weren't even _his_ people. They were allies, sure. But they weren't his responsibility.

But it didn't matter anymore. They were innocent people who were brutally murdered in cold blood by other human beings. The Locust were gone, and there was no sense in killing other humans when the world population had been nearly annihilated.

He felt Bernie come up behind him and loop her arm through his. It was her go-to gesture for reminding him to take deep breaths before he had a stroke.

Blowing out a long breath, he quickly regained some sense of order in his brain.

"Any idea who was behind _that_?"

Baird stepped past Jace, Carmine, and Dizzy, who'd come in to get a closer look at the now fussing baby.

"Gettner mowed down a few, and we got most of the others. One got away, so I don't see this being the end of it. But we do know it wasn't Ollivar's gang of assholes; unless he's sending assists out after his own men." Baird sidestepped the others again, backing away from the small crowd they'd turned into. "Bunch of friggin' women. Like they've never seen a baby before."

"Hey, man. Give the kid a break. He's had a rough day." Jace was smiling a genuinely happy smile that took away enough lines in his face to almost make him look his age.

"Good point, son," Hoffman said. He turned back to Anya, trying to keep from staring too hard at the baby himself. "Anya, get that kid to the doc. He's gotta be hungry, and tired. You can come check in when you're done."

She smiled at him and gave a quick nod.

He turned to Marcus. "Fenix, get yourself something to eat, and take a break. You can meet me in my office in two hours. I want to know everything you know about what happened there." He wasn't going to spell it out in front of the others that he expected Marcus to make sure Anya was alright. But he knew he didn't have to.

"The rest of you have the rest of the day off. Tomorrow too. You've damn well earned it."

Hoffman turned to see Bernie looking at Anya with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She caught him looking and gave him a subtle wink before turning back and fidgeting with the baby for a moment. "I think I'll keep these two company on their way to the doc. Being around babies is good for us old folks. Makes us feel young." She wrapped her arm playfully around Anya's shoulder and gave her a light squeeze, laughing quietly to herself.

Hoffman scoffed. "Whatever you say, woman."

As the group dispersed, Hoffman finally turned his attention back to the Raven.

"And Gettner," he barked, foregoing the radio for a good old-fashioned shout. "Don't think you're getting off easy."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," she called from inside. "I'll be out for my thorough reprimand as soon as Barber finishes telling me how much fuel we don't have for the trip back."

* * *

"How many are you up to?"

Dizzy was walking back over to the table with yet another pitcher of beer. "Because I haven't seen this bar go through this much booze in a month."

Sam slammed her glass back to the table. "Lost count, Diz. But I can still feel my legs, so not enough."

Baird pushed his glass up next to hers as Dizzy started to pour. He had about half as many drinks in him as she did, but the prospect of getting completely shit-faced sounded awfully promising.

Cole was sitting next to Baird keeping a careful count for them, not that he was going to let them know. He knew it had been a long time since either of them had properly drowned their sorrows, so he wasn't about to hold them back. He just sat by, ready to cut them off gently if the need arose.

But at this rate they'd be stumbling back into the bunks within the hour to sleep it off.

"Darlin', I ain't trying to be a killjoy, and I know I ain't got much room to lecture, but I just want to make sure your liver is gonna forgive you for this," Dizzy said, sliding the pitcher across the table to Jace and Carmine.

"Don't worry about my liver. Worry about blondie over here," Sam said with a smirk. She took a long drink. "Because by the time I get through with him he'll need the day off to recuperate."

Laughter filled the small booth as Dizzy's eyes went wide for a moment. "Shit. After all these years you two finally stopped cussin' at each other long enough to accomplish something?"

Baird just rolled his eyes and took another drink. "Yeah, let's talk about _that_ instead of the _real_ news. Like what the hell Stroud's gonna do with that kid."

Sam had emptied her glass, and her eyes were finally starting to look a little blurry. "What do you mean?"

Baird scoffed. "She was staring at that thing like a kid stares at a stray cat. Only a cat you can feed and let back outside. I might not know much about babies, but I'm pretty sure you can't just pat it on the head and send it out into the wild."

Cole exhaled slowly. "Ain't like he's got any family to go back to."

"Damn shame," Dizzy mumbled as he turned to go back to the bar.

"Please," Baird started. "They're gonna have to pry that kid away from her. You know how women get – all maternal and shit." Sam punched his arm, but he ignored her. "She probably already named the damn thing." He snorted. "Shit, can you picture Fenix changing diapers?"

Carmine leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head. "Too bad Dom's not here. He'd know what to do with a baby."

"Yeah, it is." Marcus had appeared out of nowhere behind him, nearly sending him toppling out of the chair.

"Shit, I'm sorry, sarge." Carmine barely got the words out. He hadn't been around as long as the others, and even though there was a natural brotherhood among Gears, there was something nerve shattering about having Marcus Fenix come up behind you unexpectedly after saying something that would probably put you on his shit list.

"Don't worry about it." Marcus looked over the others who had fallen silent. He inevitably looked to Baird, natural expecting him to be the head of the mouth running committee. "Something you wanna say?"

Baird had more than his share of drinks in him, but even the fog of a good buzz wasn't enough to convince him it was a good idea to pick a fight with Marcus. Even sober he wasn't sure he'd win. He knew Marcus had a bastard of a temper somewhere in there, and the last thing he wanted was a busted jaw and a bruised ego from a pointless bar fight.

"Nope. Just discussing the little hitchhiker we brought back. Have you been able to pull Stroud away from him yet?"

Marcus clenched his jaw and Baird braced himself for an ass chewing.

"She's still with the doc. Bernie too." He said it like it would create some illusion that it was simple feminine interest they'd both taken in the baby, not like Anya had already formed some sort of attachment. "From what they can tell, he's fine."

So Marcus had checked in on them, too. Maybe Baird underestimated Marcus' nurturing side. He barely stopped himself from telling Marcus he was already a better father than _his_ dad had been. He'd even gotten as far as opening his mouth before realizing how terrible of an idea that would be.

"Fine minus lying under the corpse of his mother for a while." He went for sarcasm instead. It was a much safer bet. "You think shit like that sticks with you?"

"I don't know blondie. How old were you the first time somebody took your teddy? I still place my bets on that being what turned you into the snuggly asshole we have now." Sam's words had the slightest hint of a slur, but only if you were listening close.

Cole was.

"Alright, lovebirds. I think you've cleaned enough pitchers for the night. Why don't you give your old pal Dizzy a break and call it a night." Cole nudged Baird with his elbow, pushing him towards Sam and the edge of the booth. "Why don't you escort our lady back to the bunks? I don't see her making it there without some help."

Sam swore she was fine, but the sway of her legs when she stood said otherwise. Baird groaned, but tugged her along towards the door. "Fine, _mom._ But if she pukes on me, I'm blaming you."

Marcus took Baird's empty seat as Jace and Carmine slid away from the table, offering quick nods as goodbyes. They weren't really prepared to spend their evening off having any sort of heavy discussion, and it seemed like that's where they would have been heading if they'd stayed.

Marcus poured the last of the pitcher into an empty glass and took a long drink, staring down into the glass as he set it back onto the table.

A few long, silent minutes passed before Cole finally spoke.

"Anything _you_ wanna say? 'Cause I'm all ears, baby. But if you just wanna sit and nurse that beer, I get it."

Marcus had never discussed his relationship with Anya with anyone that Cole knew of. It was always the elephant in the room. Everyone knew, but no one ever mentioned it. Cole could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen the two of them act anything like a regular couple. But nothing was 'regular' anymore, so who was he to judge?

But having a child together was never really an option for them. Baird had opened his big mouth about the fact that Anya couldn't have kids before anyhow. So they never really would have to acknowledge that anything was going on. Hell, if they wanted to they could keep their entire relationship behind closed doors and keep right on pretending that the world around them was oblivious.

Adding a baby into that mix would make that illusion shatter.

And that was all assuming that Baird had been right. For all he knew, the thought of keeping that baby never even crossed Anya's mind.

But even Cole knew better than that. Now that the war was over, even Cole found himself wishing he had a family to surround him. And he had time, now, to build one. And the ability. And even _he_ found himself wondering what was going to become of that little bundle on the flight back to base. So trying to pretend that Anya hadn't thought of it was impossible.

Marcus hadn't answered yet, and Cole was about to take his lack of a response as his answer when he finally responded.

"You think it'll ever stop?"

Cole tilted his head a little, waiting for some sort of elaboration.

"Every time we think it's over, we end up right back where we started. All we know is war. We bring back Griffin, and for what? So some other asshole can just step in and become the problem?"

Sometimes Cole forgot that Marcus had that many words in him. And he couldn't help but realize Marcus was avoiding a specific topic.

"Once they realize Delta's around, they'll straighten their asses right up. Count on it." He paused, weighing the pros and cons of pointing out the avoidance. But he had to count on the hope that they'd been friends long enough to take a shot.

"But that ain't really what's buggin' you. Because we've always known there's always gonna be another fight. So you wanna tell the Cole Train what's on your mind?"

Marcus looked up at him, oddly calm. Cole expected some sort of anger, or agitation. But there was nothing.

He gave a slight shrug. "What would _you_ do, Gus?"

It was the closest Cole ever got to seeing inside of Marcus' head. For a moment he forgot what he planned on saying because he'd never expected to get this far into the discussion.

"Shit, baby. You do crazy things for the people you love." He saw Marcus' jaw twitch a little. "And don't _tell_ me you don't love her."

Marcus was silent, but he didn't look away. It was the closest thing to an admission that Cole was going to get.

"So, you do what's right for the both of you. It's how _normal_ couples work." Cole offered a grin that would sufficiently cushion the minor jab.

Marcus looked down at his watch before resting his hands on the table and blowing out a long breath.

"You should be a friggin' therapist, Cole."

"I'll put that in the line behind Thrashball star, Gear, and school gym teacher." Cole let his big, goofy smile take over his face.

Pushing himself up from the table, Marcus turned for the door. "Gotta meet Hoffman. But thanks, Cole."

"Anytime, baby," he said as Marcus disappeared through the door again, leaving Cole sitting by himself.

And thanks to Baird, he couldn't get the image of Marcus trying to figure out how to hold a baby out of his head.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34:**

"Come in," Hoffman called from behind the door to his office.

Marcus pushed the door the rest of the way open. "You wanted to see me?"

Hoffman was staring out of the small window into the street below. It was later than he'd realized. Bernie would probably be up after him soon, hauling him out of the office like she ended up doing most nights.

"Have a seat, Fenix. Tell me everything."

Marcus sat heavily in the seat in front of the desk as Hoffman fell into his chair behind it. From anyone else, the question would have been loaded. But by now they knew each other well enough to know that Hoffman didn't ask personal questions, and Marcus wouldn't answer them. This was all business.

He gave Hoffman the essential information; the town had been methodically burned down, the people executed, and nothing was left. They discussed their thoughts on who could be responsible, and came to an agreement that it was most likely a random gang of Stranded. Of course no one was willing to rule anything out, but it seemed to be the most logical explanation.

Eventually, a natural lull came in the conversation. Marcus found a new topic, unwilling to leave an opening for unwanted questions.

"So what are we doing with Griffin?" Marcus asked, shifting in his seat. "I'm sure Ollivar's waiting by the phone for news."

"Firing squad, most likely," Hoffman said flatly. "I left it up to Gavriel, and he agrees that the death penalty is the best course of action. And I think it's about damn time we send a clear message that we won't tolerate this bullshit anymore."

"Can't argue with that," Marcus replied. It was the closest he'd ever sounded to content with a death sentence.

The radio on the desk crackled, interrupting Hoffman's next thought.

"Azura to Anvil Gate." It was Michaelson again.

Hoffman sighed. "I told them Gettner made it here safe. Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to be good?"

He picked up the mike and Marcus rose to give him some privacy, but Hoffman gestured for him to sit back down. "You might as well stay. Whatever it is, you're gonna hear it anyway."

Pressing the transmit button, he took a deep breath before responding. "Hoffman here. It's late, Lieutenant. If this couldn't wait until morning, I hope it's because it's just too good to make me wait."

A quiet chuckle came through. "Oh, I think so, sir. A crew made it to a solar plant on the mainland and got it up and running. It's close enough to a town that the hammer didn't target, so within a week we should be able to start shifting civvies to a real, functioning city again."

Hoffman swore he even saw Marcus crack a smile. "That was worth the call, Donneld. Thanks."

"And the turbine's done. Yanik's here. Wants to let you know all about it, if that's alright," Matheison said. "Crazy son of a bitch lost a finger and never stopped working."

Hoffman scoffed. "Those Gorasni are a hearty bunch. Put him on."

There was a long pause before Yanik's voice came over the radio, accent as thick as ever.

"Colonel Hoffman? Commander Trescu wanted me to let you know we've finished. No more worries about the power, eh? We can use whatever we need."

"Damn fine job. Now what's this about your finger?" Hoffman asked. But he didn't doubt that he'd heard correctly.

"Pah," Yanik answered. "Was the little one. I don't need it. Your lieutenant tells me to take a few days off, but I tell him he has no legs and he works. Why should I get a day off for a finger I don't use?"

"Crazy asshole," Macrus muttered, but he chuckled under his breath.

"I can't really argue with that. Just try not to lose anything else, alright? You only have so many body parts you can spare, and Trescu would have my ass if you got hurt doing something for my people."

Yanik laughed. "I tell him, Colonel. But I'm sure he'll tell you that we're in the shit together, and we get out of it together. And he'd have _my _ass if I took a day off over a simple cut."

Hoffman considered pointing out that a missing finger was far from a simple cut, but decided against it. There was no sense in arguing over the degree of the wound when it had already been taken care of, apparently.

"Well you tell Trescu I expect him to come visit Anvil Gate when he can. Bernie will save him a goat or something."

"Yes sir. And you tell our friends we miss them, and to get home. We are getting bored here with no one to shoot, and no one fun to drink with," Yanik answered.

Hoffman held out the mike to Marcus, raising an eyebrow.

Marcus reached over and took it. "I'm sure we could find a use for your bullets."

Yanik laughed again. "Ahh, Marcus Fenix! Good to hear your voice, my friend. Are the Stranded giving you troubles? Because now I have lots of free time, and my rifle is collecting dust."

"I'm sure they could find something for you to do here," Marcus said. "But I don't think Trescu would be willing to part with you."

"You know us well. Us Gorasni, we stick together. But if you need the help, I think Commander Trescu would love to take a nice cruise to Anvegad."

Hoffman held his hand back out for the mike, and Marcus passed it back without hesitation.

"Our doors are open, Yanik. But in the meantime I'm counting on you to keep an eye on Azura until we can reestablish some type of global government again. You'll have to save pirate hunting until Delta can get back and relieve you," he said.

"Understood. I let you get back to your town, Colonel. If Commander Trescu wants to call, I tell him to wait for morning. We've all had a long day, I think."

"That we have, Yanik. Take care of yourself," Hoffman replied.

Matheison took the radio back long enough for a proper sign off before Hoffman finally returned the mike to its cradle.

"It comes in small doses, Sergeant," Hoffman said, taking his cap off and setting it on the desk. "The hope. A little here, and a little there. But we get it. Even with all the destruction, at the end of the day we can finally see that light at the end of the tunnel."

"Maybe you can finally retire," Marcus said. From anyone else it would have sounded like a compliment, but Hoffman still wasn't always sure how to take what he said.

Hoffman laughed dryly. "Hell, I don't know if that will ever happen." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a flask and two shot glasses. Filling them both, he continued. "Sometimes I think that the older I get, the longer I'm gonna have to keep doing this shit until I _do_ keel over." He slid a glass across the desk to Marcus. "Bernie swears she's gonna find me dead on my feet, with my lancer in my hands."

Marcus looked at the glass skeptically.

"It's bourbon. Or something like it," Hoffman said.

Taking the glass, Marcus kept his eyes on Hoffman as he took a drink. Any time anyone pulled out their private stash of booze during a private conversation, there was a chance it was going to take a serious turn. That gave him more concern than any mystery substance Bernie had ever put in front of him.

Taking a long pull at the glass, Hoffman set it back on the desk.

"You know, Sergeant Fenix," he started.

Marcus already didn't like where this was going.

"If you would have told me three years ago that I would be saying this to you, I'd call you crazy. But now…" He shook his head like he was building up to something he really didn't want to say.

"I've been called worse," Marcus replied, shifting uncomfortably in his sheets. He wasn't a spill-your-guts kind of man, and wasn't looking forward to being on the receiving end either. But somehow he'd ended up trapped in this conversation with no easy way out. All he could do was sit there and wait for whichever awkward path it was about to take.

Hoffman did his dry laugh again. "I guess we both have. But damnit, Fenix, what I'm trying to say is," he paused again, trying to put the words together just right in his head.

"We couldn't have done this without you. And I'm damn proud to have served alongside you, and you deserve to be more than a Sergeant. As soon as we get a chance, you're getting a proper promotion."

"Just doing my job, sir." Marcus was sitting stiffly, trying not to show just how unsettling he found the conversation. It was starting to feel like Hoffman was preparing for his own funeral.

"I've got thousands of men who do their jobs every damn day, and I can't think of a single one who's done more for this war effort than you. And most of _them_ don't have nearly as many reasons to walk away from it all than you did. But here we are. After the end of everything, at the new beginning. Two stubborn assholes who survived it all."

"Mhmm," Marcus mumbled. He was still trying to navigate the unknown territory of an open conversation with Hoffman that didn't seem to have anything to do with military tactics.

There was a long pause.

"You're a good man, Marcus."

The silence was thick again. Marcus stared ahead, blinking slowly, completely unsure of how to respond.

"Not something you ever thought you'd hear me say," Hoffman said, trying to relieve some of the pressure on him to respond. "But there it is."

"Thanks," Marcus said.

Hoffman caught his eye for a moment and gave him a deliberate nod.

A soft knock on the door frame broke the tension. Marcus turned quickly, anxious for an escape.

Bernie stood against the door frame with Mac beside her, looking completely exhausted.

"Am I interrupting something?" Bernie raised an eyebrow skeptically, trying to work out exactly what was going on. At any given time she was ready to see the two of them trading punches. Seeing them alone and having a drink together wasn't a sight she ever expected.

"Just being a sentimental old bastard," Hoffman said, finishing off the last of his drink. He looked back to Marcus. "You can go, Fenix. I'm sure Anya's wondering where you're hiding."

It was the first time Marcus could remember Hoffman ever calling her 'Anya' to him. It was always 'Lieutenant Stroud', or just 'Stroud'. It was part of the delicate pretense they'd created. It was the closest Hoffman had ever come to outright acknowledging the relationship; at least to Marcus' face. Even Bernie caught it, her eyes widening just slightly.

Marcus swallowed hard and gave him a quick nod, hoping to disappear through the door before anyone had a chance to say anything else.

Bernie reached out and caught his elbow. "She's still in with the doc. Spare you the trouble of calling her."

"Uh huh," he muttered, every bit aware that she was forever trying to push them together. Just once he wished he could find a way to tell her how unnecessary it was. But simple gratitude would do for now.

"Thanks," he said. "And Hoffman? For what it's worth, so are you," he said before he evaporated into the dark hallway.

Bernie looked over at Hoffman with her soft, smug smile. "You two reminiscing about the good old days?"

Hoffman scoffed. "Shit, what good were the old days?"

Coming up to his desk, Bernie leaned back against it, turning to rub his head playfully. "Now you're gonna hurt this old girl's feelings. I thought we had our share of good times."

"You mean before I turned into an asshole?" he replied.

"There was a before?" Noticing the agitation pulling his lips into a stiff frown she softened her tone. "Come on, Vic. We've been through this. I thought we moved on."

He sighed heavily. "Sorry, babe. Just taking some time out of my day to kick my own ass."

"Why don't you leave that to me?" she offered, tugging gently at his arm. "I saved you dinner."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

"Rabbit."

The frown faded slowly. "I'll take it."

* * *

By the time Marcus had made his way to the small hospital, most of the staff had gone home for the night. The hallway lights were dim, and the doors to the few occupied room were closed. A single nurse sat behind the intake desk, sipping a cup of coffee as she looked over a short stack of papers.

The heavy thud of boots caught her attention as soon as Marcus had turned the corner.

"Visiting hours are over, Sergeant. You'll have to come back in the morning." She said it like she'd said it a thousand times. No malice; simply stating facts.

"Lieutenant Stroud still here?" He didn't bother arguing with her.

The nurse looked uneasy for a moment, but a smile crossed her face. "Didn't have the heart to kick her out." She cocked her head towards one of the closed doors. "She's in two. Probably still asleep."

Marcus nodded as thanks before turning towards the room.

"Just don't tell anyone I'm breaking rules for you two," she said quietly behind him.

He opened the door slowly, careful not to make too much noise.

They'd wheeled an old crib into the hospital room and parked it between the couch and the bed. Sleeping soundly in the crib, now properly clothed and clean up, was the tiny baby.

Anya was curled up on the couch beside the crib, sound asleep as well. Her armor was stacked neatly on the floor, and her lancer was propped up against the arm of the couch, close enough for her to reach out and grab. Some things never changed.

Marcus felt guilty for even considering waking her.

He turned to go, but a soft rustling caught his attention. Expecting to see Anya sitting up, he turned back to see the baby stirring in the small bed.

Walking over to the side of the crib, he leaned over, staring hard at the small boy. As much as he didn't want to wake Anya, he was certain he'd managed to wake the baby instead.

But somehow he hadn't. The baby simply rolled onto his side and settled back into a deep, peaceful sleep.

"Marcus?" Anya whispered from behind him.

He turned slowly, afraid to make any sudden movements.

"What time is it?" she asked quietly, rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand as she sat up.

"Late," he replied, taking a seat next to her, leaving the usual amount of space between them any time there was a chance someone would come in. Whenever there was a possibility of being caught, he kept an invisible barrier between them. A very specific amount of space that was close enough to imply intimacy, but far enough that to an onlooker it would appear completely innocent.

"Mataki said you were still here," he said, like she was just another Gear he was checking on after a long day.

She nodded, still somewhere between asleep and awake. "The doc said he'd be fine, but wants to keep him here for a few days. Just in case, you know?"

"Uh huh," he muttered, staring again at the small body in the crib in front of them. The last time he'd been around a baby that small when he wasn't telling its parents to stay out of the way of grubs was when Dom's kids were still alive. Suddenly the visual of the shrines Maria had turned their bedrooms into came flooding back to his brain.

"Tough little guy," she said, successfully shaking him out of the fog of unpleasant memories. "Not a scratch on him. I guess whoever killed all those people had some sort of a conscience."

"Letting the kid starve or freeze to death seems a lot worse to me," he replied, finally turning to face her.

Based on her expression it wasn't really what she wanted to hear.

"I forgot how much of an optimist you are," she said with a smirk.

He shrugged. "Part of my charm."

She stifled a soft laugh. "And here I was starting to worry you'd think I kept you around for your good looks."

"You hit your head today?" he muttered, but there was the faintest hint of a smile in his voice.

She took the chance to shift closer to him, and to her surprise he didn't immediately move away. Pressing her luck, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he remained unmoved.

Anya stared down at her watch, watching the seconds tick by and enjoying every one of them. She almost wanted to remind him that the door wasn't locked to see if he'd make an excuse to get up, but she wasn't about to take any simple affection for granted.

After a full five minutes had passed in blissful silence, she felt him tense up. She sighed, knowing exactly what it meant.

"When's the last time you ate?" he asked.

"Is 'I don't remember' an acceptable answer?"

He grunted and nudged her with his arm. "Come on, that kid is out cold. Mataki already thinks I don't take good enough care of you. Can't let you starve."

She sighed and stood, casting one last careful look at the sleeping infant before following Marcus to the door. Closing it softly behind her she stopped at the nurse's desk on the way by.

"Sergeant Fenix reminded me that I haven't eaten since this morning." Jerking her head towards the door she continued. "He's still asleep, but I'll come back in the morning to check on him."

"Yes ma'am," the nurse responded with a bright smile. "If anything comes up, I'll call you."

"I'll leave my radio on," Anya replied.

As they made their way down to the street, they settled into their typical silence. As Anya turned off towards the town hall, Marcus stopped short.

"Not going to The Mess?"

She shook her head. "It's late. There's food at the barracks. And a bed." When he didn't immediately start following her again, she tilted her head quizzically. "Something wrong with the bunks?"

He stared at her for a moment silently before sighing. "Shit. No. Just was expecting a conversation."

"_You_?" She barely caught her laughter in her throat. She wasn't sure if he ignored it or if the idea of a conversation was still so alien to him that he missed the joke.

But he skipped over the witty response and went straight for the kill.

"What's gonna happen to that kid when he gets a clean bill of health?"

It was her turn to be caught off guard. She stood there, grasping at words for a moment before organizing her thoughts into a proper sentence.

"What do you mean?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly frustrated that he'd have to spend more of his precious few words to explain himself.

"Where's he gonna go?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," she said, staring at the ground.

"Bullshit."

Snapping her head up, her expression flashed briefly with worry. In their alone time they'd never bothered to pull punches with each other, but she couldn't help but be concerned that he'd resent her dishonesty.

It just so happened that the truth would most likely bother him even more.

She found herself staring at the ground again, hoping he'd figure out the answer for himself.

"It's up to you, you know," he finally said, his voice low and uncharacteristically reassuring.

"And how should I interpret your lack of an opinion?" she asked, afraid to look up. She knew how he felt about kids. His family hadn't set a very good example for him in the way of proper parenting, and they'd established long ago, even before their affair had turned into whatever they could classify their relationship as now, that children weren't in their future.

The fact that there was even a possibility of that changing was terrifying. She knew it simply wasn't fair to make such a major change to the plan this late in the game.

But denying that she'd already become attached to the little boy she'd rescued from the arms of his dead mother and comforted for the entire trip home was impossible.

Bracing herself to look up and be told that it just wasn't something he wanted, she inhaled deeply, savoring the last moment that she could pretend that it would somehow all work itself out.

But before she could find the words to tell him she understood, and she'd tell the hospital staff to find someone to take care of him, Marcus reached over and grasped her chin with his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly, leaving no room for doubt.

She felt a crushing mix of relief and anxiety. He'd left the decision up to her not because he didn't plan to see it through, but because he would remain by her side regardless of her choice. The pressure to make the _right _decision would still be a burden she'd have to bear over the next few days, but at the very least she could count on support.

Dropping his hand back to his side, he stared patiently, waiting for any sort of response. He'd said his piece; all he could do was wait.

She gave him a quick nod and flashed a soft smile. "Alright," she said softly, trying to keep herself from some ridiculously emotional display.

He nodded back. "So that's settled. Ready for the inquisition from the nosy assholes?"

She laughed dryly, still trying to compose herself. The fog of exhaustion and hunger was taking its toll. "You don't think they're sleeping?"

He grunted. "I friggin' hope so."


	35. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35:**

By the time they made it to the bunkroom, everything was wonderfully silent. Cole was the only one still up. The others had all fallen into deep, drunken sleep.

Marcus split off to his bunk to strip off his armor as Anya half stumbled into the kitchen, rapidly realizing just how tired she really was. She found Cole sitting at the table with an old piece of scrap paper spread in front of him, writing slowly as he ate a ration bar with his free hand.

"Sorry, Cole," she mumbled. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

He folded his paper carefully, smiling his big, wide smile. "No problem, baby. Just telling my mama 'bout my day." Cole had never bothered hiding what he was doing. Even if someone _did _think he was crazy, no one was stupid enough to make fun of him for it.

Pulling a pack of dry rations from the cabinet, she sank into the seat across from him. "Don't stop on my account. If I can stay up long enough to eat this, I'm crawling into bed for the next eight hours as soon as I finish."

He tucked the paper into his pocket anyway. "Well then I may as well take a minute to ask how _you're_ doin', ma'am."

She smiled. She never bothered to tell Cole he didn't have to call her that. She knew it wasn't a matter of him still viewing her as his superior. He was just respectful.

"I'm fine, Cole. Just tired. Marcus practically had to drag me out of the hospital."

Cole chuckled quietly. "Yeah, that sounds about right. How's the little guy doing?"

"Fine so far. Perfectly healthy."

"Can't help but notice you didn't spend much time away from him since we got back," he said gently.

She shrugged slightly. "What can I say? I like to follow things through."

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a Baird-rivaling smirk. "Uh huh. I'm sure you're just being thorough."

She groaned quietly, but before she could respond he reached across and patted her arm.

"You ain't gotta do no explaining to me. But you may want to make sure you're keeping certain other folks up to speed." he said, gesturing to the door leading to the main room.

Anya glanced past him towards the doorway. "We talked about it." She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "He said it was up to me."

Cole exhaled slowly. "Shit. That's probably the closest you're gonna get to him saying to bring the kid home."

"I know," she said, sighing softly. "So why can't I give him an answer?"

"Probably the same reason I felt the way I did when I joined up. You spent years thinking your life would be a certain way, and then suddenly something happens that changes everything and you're scared shitless thinking about what you're gonna do to deal with it." Cole shrugged. "But I managed to work it out. So will you."

Marcus appeared in the doorway behind Cole. "Getting some free time with the community therapist?"

Cole laughed a little louder than he meant to, but it wouldn't have made a difference to the soundly sleeping Gears in the next room. "You know the Cole Train. Always gotta do my part to keep the lovebirds happily." He reached across the table and tussled Anya's hair as he stood to leave. "Bernie's still thanking me for getting the blonde genius to shut up long enough to follow that shriveled lump he calls a heart." He squeezed past Marcus, still laughing under his breath.

Marcus stared over at her. "I'm turning in. You gonna be ok, or am I gonna find you passed out in here again?"

Staring down into the empty ration pouch she scoffed. A clever response was buried somewhere deep within the hazy thoughts in her brain, but she just couldn't quite get it out. She pushed herself up from the table and trudged to the doorway, tossing her trash in the bin on her way to the door.

As she walked past him he nudged her gently with his elbow and gave her a quick nod. He may not have been the traditionally comforting type, but it only made the small gestures mean that much more to her.

She barely made it to the cot before falling asleep.

* * *

The morning came quickly, and as the squad slowly began to wake up, it was clear who was feeling the effects of the night before.

Baird came stumbling out of the kitchen with bottles of water and passed them out to Sam, Jace, and Carmine. Any other day someone would have been cracking a joke about the unusual display of kindness, but the camaraderie of sharing massive hangovers was enough to keep everyone quiet.

Anya was the last one up, and even Baird couldn't resist pointing it out.

"Shit, I didn't think you knew how to sleep past sunup. You sure picked a shitty time to try that out."

Pulling her armor over her head, she checked her watch. It was a full two hours later than she usually woke. "At least I don't look half dead like the rest of you. Why, did I miss something?"

"No, I just mean if you plan on bringing that kid home, you're not gonna be getting much sleep, right?" Baird asked, clearly not letting the pounding in his head affect his attitude.

"Subtle, asshole," Marcus muttered.

"Ooh, someone's bitter. Not looking forward to sharing the attention?"

Marcus took a half step towards him, but Cole stepped between them. "Come on, Damon. Play nice. If you think Boomer lady hit you hard, I'm pretty sure you'd be feeling this one till next week."

There was a tense silence for a moment, but Marcus seemed to decide it wasn't worth the argument.

"You wanna talk about not looking forward to something, you better hope Hoffman let's Griffin live till your hangover goes away. I think facing the firing squad would be less painful for him than it would be for you guys," he said, mercifully trying to deflect some of the attention off of Anya. She seemed grateful. "Last I checked, rifle fire isn't the best hangover cure."

"Yeah, Baird. I don't think _I've_ ever been that drunk," Carmine said from his cot, shoving the rest of a ration bar in his mouth before tugging his boots on. "Do you even remember last night?"

"Hey, I remember plenty," Baird said, instantly defensive.

"You remember asking Sam to give you a tattoo?" Jace called from the next room. "Cause I bet that'd be hard to forget."

Baird's eyes went wide as he spun to face Sam, still sitting on the couch with a cool rag pressed to her head. She peered out from under it and chuckled.

"Don't look at me. You lost me about five minutes after we left The Mess."

Pulling his shirt away from his chest he glanced down, then patted his arms and legs quickly, making a conscious effort not to look frantic. "I swear if you did to me what you did to Rossi…"

"Relax. I can fix it," she said, laughing quietly.

Finishing his brief search satisfied he hadn't ended up with any new body art, he glared over at her.

"I never had to drink like that before I met you, you know."

"Can't blame me for everything, Blondie," she shot back, pulling the rag down over her eyes. "And lower your bloody voice, will you?"

Cole started laughing quietly to himself. "I swear, it'd be easier to keep an eye on a bunch of teenagers around booze."

"We were celebrating," Baird replied, falling back onto his cot after a long sip of water.

Marcus scoffed.

Peering at him from the corner of his eye, Baird raised his eyebrow. "What? Just because you want to mope around about every little thing we can't change doesn't mean the rest of us can't unwind."

"Did you just wake up and decide you wanted to piss me off today?" Marcus asked.

"Must be your day. It's only fair; usually it's mine." Sam said. She swung her legs under her as she sat up, trying her best to defuse the situation. "Besides, he's whiny when he's not feeling well. Put him on the phone with Doc Hayman and let her tell him all about the people she's patched up over the years. Let her put his little hangover in perspective."

"I like you better when you're drunk," Baird mumbled, shooting her a quick glare before falling back onto his pillow again.

"That's his way of saying I'm right, you know," she said with a wink. She made her way to the kitchen patting Marcus' arm on her way in the way of an apology.

"Anyone heard from Hoffman yet?" Anya finally said. The last thing she wanted to do was let the conversation shift back into a potential argument again.

Cole shook his head. "Nah, but I bet he knows the state this bunch would be in and took mercy on them."

"Yeah, he's the merciful type," Marcus said, and it wasn't as sarcastic as it should have been coming from him. He looked over to Anya."Come on. He's probably already in his office."

He was giving her an easy escape, and she took it.

"Alright," she replied before looking back to Cole. "Keep an eye on these guys, alright? Try to make sure they remember they're not off tomorrow, too."

"Yes ma'am," he said, "But don't blame me when they look like this again in the morning."

Jace groaned from behind him. "I won't survive another night like that," he said, just as Marcus and Anya made their way out the door.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "Not really a conversation I wanted to have yet."

"Anytime. You heading to the hospital?" he asked, keeping his eyes forward as they passed through the town.

"I'll go with you to see Hoffman," she offered.

"Nah, come on. We'll go check on the kid. I wanna see Rossi, anyway."

She smiled, remembering what Cole had said.

_'That's probably the closest you're gonna get to him saying to bring the kid home.'_

"Alright," she replied, slipping her arm through his. "Hoffman isn't going anywhere."

* * *

"So you really think that no one's gonna just take my place?"

Griffin was sitting across from Hoffman nearly identically to the captives they'd held just days ago. The hunger and dehydration hadn't really affected his attitude yet. Bernie tried to convince Hoffman to leave him without water for an entire two days, but Hoffman swore he didn't intend on letting him live that long.

"Come on, Vic. Why are we even bothering with this? He's not gonna give us anything other than a headache." Bernie was pacing anxiously near the door to the small storage space, cocking her head to the side slightly as Mac whined impatiently from the other side of the door.

"You know, it's been a while since Mac took a chunk out of a person. He could use the practice."

Griffin chuckled dryly, trying to disguise the rasp in his voice. "Lady you ain't gonna scare me. You wanna kill me; get it the fuck over with. I got nothin' to say to you."

"You heard the man," she said.

Hoffman had been eerily silent throughout the entire visit. Bernie had insisted on coming along, but didn't get much in the way of explanation. She'd tried her best to press him into telling her what exactly he wanted to know and why he was even bothering with the conversation.

As far as Bernie was concerned, Griffin was as good as dead. The sentence had already been decided. And as soon as they could arrange for Ollivar to bring along the boats he promised, it'd be carried out. Anything Griffin knew wouldn't be worth the time it'd take to walk to the storage closet. So when Hoffman had woken up with the idea that he needed to talk to the tosser, Bernie wasn't sure why. But who was she to tell anyone which monsters they did or didn't need to confront?

Hoffman took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as a smile crossed his face that Bernie could only describe as _content_.

"You know, Griffin. I came in here expecting to get some type of explanation from you. I don't know why, really. I'd have an easier time getting that dog out there to tell me why it likes to drink from the damn toilet. But being the skeptical old bastard that I am, I figured there just had to be some reason that you thought picking a fight with fisherman outside of _my_ town was a good plan. But you know what I realized?"

Griffin stared back across the table, completely relaxed in the chair. If his hands weren't bound to the arms it'd look like two old friends chatting over coffee.

Hoffman answered his own question. "I realized that I don't care anymore."

Bernie stopped, resting her back against the door, hand hovering patiently near her sidearm. Even she was waiting to hear the rest now.

"I'm too old to keep trying to figure out why you assholes are dumb enough to keep killing people. So instead of wasting my time, I'm learning to focus on the future. Now that we've got one."

"Yeah, and what does that mean?" Griffin scoffed.

"It means that once you're nothing more than a carcass being hauled out like a bag of garbage, me and the rest of my men are going to hunt down every last asshole like you who thinks it's a good idea to pick a fight with the COG." He paused, letting the last bit of satisfaction ooze through his voice. "And I guess I just wanted to let you know that before you face the squad. Because the last thing I want you to think about before you finally make your way straight to hell is the fact that despite you doing every last thing you could, the COG survived, and is going to rebuild, and there's not one damn thing you can do about it."

Hoffman rose as calmly as he had spoken and turned to exit the room, leaving Griffin spewing meaningless profanities and threats behind him. Bernie took his arm, pulling the door shut with her other hand.

"Satisfied?" she finally asked.

"You know, I actually am."

* * *

"Good morning, ma'am," the nurse behind the desk smiled as she saw Anya come up. She gave a nod to Marcus before looking back to her. "The doctor is in with him now. Little guy slept all night."

"No problems?" Anya asked, realizing she was already sounding like a new mom picking her child up from day care.

"Just that you didn't come see me when you came in yesterday," said a voice behind her.

Anya and Marcus spun in unison. Marcus chuckled to himself. "Shit, Rossi. Not much can keep you in bed, can it?"

Drew Rossi was wheeling himself down the hallway in an ancient wheelchair with Alex walking beside him.

"The right woman," he replied with a cocky grin. "But a bullet hole? Nah."

"He wouldn't even let me push, you know," Alex said as she rolled her eyes. She looked over at Anya with a knowing smirk. "I hear you brought back something other than war assets, Lieutenant."

"News travels fast," Anya replied, trying to reel in her enthusiasm.

"Please," Alex scoffed. "The nurses haven't shut up about the little bugger. Cute kid, too. They keep saying they're playing with him so he's not alone, like no one knows they'll use any excuse to play with a baby."

"Alex won't join the bandwagon. Friggin' killjoy," Rossi said from beside her, elbowing her in the hip.

"I've had my fill of babies," she said, her voice a little sharper than usual. It was enough to cut off that conversational path without creating any awkward tension.

"You're just no fun," Rossi said. He looked up at Anya and put on his best wounded soldier face. "You know she wants me to go home before I'm all healed up?"

"Yeah, because he keeps sweet talking the pretty nurses into giving him sponge baths," she shot back. "Eventually they're gonna catch on, you know."

"They could do worse," he said defiantly.

"Geez, you two _are_ as bad as siblings," Anya said playfully. "I bet you're driving the nurses crazy with the bickering."

"Oh, they don't care what I'm _saying_," Rossi started, but Alex cut him off.

Gripping the handles of the chair she spun him around, ignoring his protests. "Come on, time for physio. We're not letting you harass these women any longer than you have to." She turned to look over her shoulder. "Call me when you know what Hoffman's gonna do with king asshole. And good luck with that kid, Stroud," she said before disappearing around the corner.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Am I that obvious?" she asked quietly, barely directing the question to anyone but herself.

He shrugged slightly and nudged her arm, propelling her back towards the room they'd been in the night before. "Not worth trying to hide anything if everyone's gonna know anyway."

"If only you realized that fifteen years ago," she said, smirking over at him. She had every right to say it bitterly, but there was nothing malicious about it. It was mostly an attempt to skirt the topic she still wasn't entirely sure how to discuss.

No matter how long they'd known each other, she still managed to find things she didn't know how to approach with him. She'd spent years perfecting the skill of interpreting every sparse word, and every little gesture he made; every minute, unspoken detail. But that never rendered he able to predict how he'd react to things. Every time she was certain she'd finally figured him out, some new scenario would come up and remind her that she had only scratched the surface of the depths of his mind.

He tightened his jaw in a manner she instantly recognized. "Sorry," she murmured. She'd struck a nerve.

"Don't be," he said gruffly. No matter what existed now, he still had years of practice beating himself up for every last thing that had ever occurred between the two of them. Every missed opportunity, all the lost time. And the jabs from others had never bothered him, but hearing it come from her never failed to sting a little harder than he would ever admit.

"But if that kid is sticking around, you're gonna have to get used to it. Unless you plan on hiding him somewhere." Marcus had already moved on. He wasn't the type to outwardly dwell on words.

Anya sighed, coming to a stop at the door to the hospital room. She looked up at him with a soft smile, one she typically saved for their private moments. It was the best she could do in the way of a more thorough apology with so much hospital staff wandering around.

"You're right," she started, sparing a moment to peek into the room. The young doctor that had treated Rossi when he came in was checking over the small child as a nurse distracted him with a small, ragged stuffed animal. "And I guess we'll have to figure out what to call him." She peered back up at him, shifting from her soft expression back to a devious smirk. "Unless _you_ plan on calling him 'kid' for the rest of his life."

He shrugged, staring into the room without meeting her eyes, but a hint of a smirk appeared on his face as well. "He'll know who I'm talking to."

* * *

**A/N: So here we are again. It's Tuesday! And it's my birthday! Just a small note to give you all a head's up; I won't be posting this Thursday. Thursday is Thanksgiving, and I don't really anticipate being home very much that day. So, instead I'm pushing my Thursday update to Friday this week. AND, to top it off, I work first thing in the morning Friday so my update may not get posted until the afternoon. And as always, I hope everyone is still enjoying the story line so far. I've always had the ending/epilogue in mind (since before I even began the first chapter, actually) so I hope that I'm doing the Gears universe justice on the journey there.**

**Thank you, as always, for the awesome support and feedback. It's amazing, and I cannot adequately express my gratitude for each and every bit of it.**


	36. Chapter 36

** CHAPTER 36:**

The next morning came quickly. Hoffman had called Ollivar the night before and expressed his desire to wash his hands of the entire Griffin situation, and Ollivar had agreed to be at Anvil Gate, complete with the boats he'd promised, by the early afternoon.

Marcus stood at the end of the pier staring out into the ocean looking deceptively relaxed. Baird was leaning against a low stone pillar on the shore tinkering with Jack impatiently under the curious eye of Cole.

"If he's late, can we start without him?" Baird called. "I'm fine with taking our sweet time about this."

Baird, of course, had been one of the first to volunteer to be part of the firing squad. Hoffman had been certain if he'd put a sign-up sheet in the center of town even some of the civvies would have put their name down. But he tried to put some limitations on it. Sending a message was one thing, but going overboard wasn't necessary to prove his point.

But if it were up to Baird, they'd have buried Griffin up to his neck and let him starve to death. He had already planned on telling Hoffman they ought to start at Griffin's ankles and work their way up slowly, but Cole managed to talk him out of it.

"If he's late, we wait. Part of the deal, remember?" Marcus said without looking back.

"I forgot how much you love to follow all the rules," Baird said, but it was significantly less malicious than the barbs from the previous morning. Apparently a good night's sleep and the absence of a hangover had restored him to his normal sarcastic self.

"And here I thought I was the fun one," Marcus replied.

Cole burst into laughter from behind him. "Baby, don't ever forget that that's the Cole Train's title."

Hoffman was finally making his way toward the pier, unusually alone.

"Boomer lady ain't comin'?" Cole asked, finally puling Marcus' attention away from the ocean.

"She'll be here. She took that damn dog to see the doc. He's getting too old to go chasing after shit," Hoffman said, shooting Marcus a quick nod as a greeting.

"Doesn't seem to stop you two," Baird said, closing Jack's front panel and tucking his tools back into his pocket.

"I may be an old bastard, but don't think that means I can't ruin your day, Corporal," Hoffman replied.

Baird scoffed, but wisely didn't reply. He was sure Hoffman had a sense of humor in there somewhere, but he was only going to push it so far. And he wasn't sure exactly what Hoffman had in mind for reprimands anymore, but he was certain he wouldn't enjoy it.

"No word from our newest ally yet?" Hoffman asked, looking at Marcus.

"Not yet," he answered.

"Think they hit trouble?" Cole asked.

"They _are_ trouble," Baird shot back.

"They should be in radio range by now. They'd call," Marcus said, squinting back out into the distance.

"Yeah, 'cause the first thing they'd do is ask us for help." Baird never missed an opportunity to convey exactly how he felt about this whole truce thing. "If they did call, I'd say it was a trap."

"Ain't anyone ever taught you how to have some faith Damon?" Cole came up next to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "We all gotta learn to make friends. Time to start watchin' out for each other."

Baird shrugged him off. "Yeah, yeah. I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well here's your chance," Marcus said. A series of small figures had finally appeared in the distance. "Looks like our boats are here."

"Make sure you check them for bombs," Baird said.

"You volunteering?" Marcus asked, not leaving space for Baird to answer before reaching for his radio.

"This is Sergeant Fenix calling from Anvil gate. Identify yourselves."

"Relax, Fenix," Ollivar's voice said in their ears. "It's us. Little unnerved by the mysterious fleet on the horizon?"

"Just being vigilant. Figured you'd respect that in an ally." Marcus tried not to sound impatient.

Ollivar laughed. "Yeah, 'respect' is the first word I think of when I picture you."

Baird had come up next to Marcus and watched the boats get closer. "He's hilarious. Maybe we _should _give him a chance." He crossed his arms, letting every bit of his cynicism fill his tone. "But I see an awful lot of boats out there."

"He owes us half of his fleet. What did you expect?" Cole offered.

"You're right, Cole. It doesn't look like an ambush at all. I'm sure each and every Stranded scumbag driving one of those boats is gonna be perfectly content to squeeze onto one for the long, smelly trip home."

"Can you ever be helpful?" Marcus muttered.

He pressed his finger back to his ear. "Should I be checking your men for weapons as they hit the pier?"

"You can do whatever you want, Fenix," Ollivar started. "But if we're working out this trust thing, you should give them a pass. They're only along because I can't pilot a dozen boats on my own. In the interest of honesty, though, I did tell them they could stay to watch. I assume that won't be a problem?"

Baird couldn't resist. "Oh no, we've got plenty of room. But the popcorn won't be free."

Marcus shot him a steely glare and Baird just shrugged. Just because Marcus still liked to cling to the assertion that executions weren't a spectator sport didn't mean Baird couldn't get his own enjoyment out of it.

The boats were rapidly closing in and Baird was getting that sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. There was an animal instinct deep inside trying desperately to engage the fight-or-flight part of his mind. But since he'd never been much on 'flight' all he could do was stand there with his boots planted firmly to the boards and watch another possibility of death float towards them.

As the lead boat came within clear sight range, Ollivar stepped out from the wheelhouse onto the open deck.

"At least someone's willing to start that trust ball rolling," Cole said, consistently trying to be helpful.

"As long as that ball doesn't flatten out asses," Baird said under his breath.

"You gonna weigh in on this too, Colonel?" Marcus asked.

"If we're all still alive in five minutes, I won't need to," Hoffman replied, sounding much calmer than he should have. He'd come up to join them at the end of the pier and had his arms relaxed at his side. Only years of knowing him let on that he would be able to pull his pistol from its holster in under a second if he had to.

Baird gave him a knowing look. "Hope your reflexes are as sharp as they used to be, sir."

After all the years they'd been together, everyone knew the more jokes he cracked the closer he was to shitting his pants. Everyone had their own way of dealing with it. Baird's just happened to be the most annoying.

"Afternoon, gentlemen. Sorry we kept you waiting. My luxury cruisers aren't what they used to be." Ollivar wasn't bothering with the radio anymore. He only had to slightly raise his voice to be heard over the engine now.

Hoffman slowly scanned the rest of the vessels and shook his head. The sorry state of repair they were in made him wonder if the deal they'd made was even worth it. But then he really should have specified who got to choose the boats.

"When I said 'half', I did mean a working half," Hoffman said, keeping a loose hold on his aggravation. He wasn't expecting pristine condition, but most of the boats before him looked worse than the one they'd sacrificed during their search for Griffin.

"They work just fine, Colonel. Got us here, didn't they?" Ollivar stepped across the gap between the deck and the pier and extended his hand to Hoffman. It was an unexpected, but welcome, gesture. "Trust me; we left some behind for a reason."

Hoffman took his hand but he didn't hold on for a moment longer than he felt was necessary. "Really putting our trust to the test, huh?"

Ollivar flashed him his easy grin. "I do what I can." He looked warily to Marcus for a moment, seemingly debating on extending him the courtesy of a handshake.

Deciding against it, he settled on the safer bet of a quick nod before turning back to Hoffman.

"So where do you want your new boats?" he asked, eager to get on with the formalities and reach what he assumed would be the high point of his day.

"Have your men tie them off along the pier. We'll send a crew down for them when we get back to the fort." Hoffman said. "You can leave two here as a guard, if you want. Or we can wait for me to call someone down."

Ollivar gestured to the boat he'd stepped off of to go up towards the shore before waving the rest of the small fleet in. "Nah. I can spare two. The sooner I get to go see my old buddy, the better." The grin he'd had morphed slowly into a wicked sneer, like he was reliving the moment Griffin had ousted him from his cushy position of leadership.

"Fair enough," Hoffman replied. He looked to Marcus, Baird and Cole. "You three stick around until they dock, and keep your radios open. We'll go pay a visit to Griffin before I track down Gavriel and figure out exactly when he wants to do this."

Hoffman and Ollivar walked off, keeping a safe distance between them. No matter what level of trust they established, instinct and history would always keep them from getting too chummy. Only time would change something like that.

But at least now there'd _be_ time.

"You really think he's not giving us the shittiest boats he had?" Baird said quietly, waiting to switch his channel to open. The last thing he needed was Hoffman overhearing something that would just piss him off.

"Wouldn't you?" Marcus asked, doing his own slow scan of the boats. But there was an intensity that said he wasn't just doing a simple examination of them.

It only took Baird a moment to realize what Marcus was doing; he was trying to add up in his head just how many men were on each boat. Instead of gloating that he was finally starting to figure the guy out, he took a moment to do the math in his head as all three of them switched their radios to transmit hands free.

Each boat presumably had at least two men. That meant at least twenty three men were going to be on the docks in a matter of minutes. Those odds weren't favorable no matter which way you looked at them.

Like a voice from Heaven Bernie's voice suddenly filled their ears.

"Don't look over your shoulder, Blondie, but you've got some cover fire if you need it."

He swore the woman was a mind reader sometimes. In reality it was just her years of experience that taught her that if things could go wrong, they probably would.

"Don't tell Vic, hmm? He won't be too pleased with my dishonesty. Or my borrowing ten Gears for the afternoon. But if this goes south, don't be shitting yourself about the bullets coming from behind you."

No matter how unpleasant the scenario sounded, she made it sound like just another operation that she had entirely under control. The Sergeant in her would never fade.

"You'll be an easy bunch to miss," Sam cut in. "Considering you're twice the size of those buggers."

"Yeah, as long as your arm holds up," Baird muttered as the first few boats pulled up to the dock and the crews started to disembark.

"Want me to practice, blondie? 'Cause I've got my crosshairs on your ass," Sam replied, sounding as over-confident as usual. The fact that she didn't say anything more, leaving it to the typical over-compensation, meant she was feeling just fine. He would have been more concerned if she'd kept talking, but he was relieved that she had a sarcastic comeback, otherwise he really would be scared.

"You know, I can almost hear Major Stroud in my head telling us to maintain radio discipline," Bernie said, sounding uncharacteristically wistful.

Baird caught Marcus tensing up from the corner of his eye, but thought better of pointing it out. He guessed any time he heard the name 'Stroud' he involuntarily flinched. It didn't matter which one the speaker was referring to.

As the boats filed in slowly, it became apparent that most of them were operating with two man crews. Only one man was climbing down from each craft to tie the boat down as the engines cut out one at a time.

But none of them were willing to give in to hope just yet.

The last boat engine cut out, leaving the dock in relative silence. There were quiet murmurs as the pairs from each boat gave each other instructions or continued conversations from the trip.

The lack of conversation between the two groups was almost comically awkward. It wasn't until every last vessel was tied down before one of the younger men finally spoke up.

He looked over the three Gears carefully, trying to determine who he'd get the best response from. He settled on Cole, despite his overwhelming mass, simply because his beaming smile was the only welcoming expression.

"So, uh, we'll stay here, I guess," he said slowly, gesturing to another young guy as he avoided making too much direct eye contact. If Ollivar _had_ been expecting a fight, he certainly hadn't brought a strong crew for it.

"That's what I heard," Cole said, friendly as ever. "The rest of you are welcome to come along. We ain't got much in the way of spare food, but I'm sure we can fix you up with somethin' while we're waitin'."

Baird fought to keep himself from telling them to stay the hell out of the town. He really would have to get used to this diplomacy thing. But no amount of acceptance would ever make him happy about it.

"Thanks, man," one of the other guys said. And he looked like he meant it.

The massive group of them made their way towards the town, but the progress was slower than anyone was happy with. It was hard to maintain a steady pace when everyone was busy trying to watch everyone else. But eventually they made it.

At the gates to the town they passed a dozen Gears heading past them. They exchanged quick salutes before going their separate ways.

Hoffman was standing in the center of town, still talking to Ollivar. Baird could swear he was smiling.

He bumped Cole with his elbow.

"Guess those two are getting along."

"Good," Marcus said from his other side. "No sense starting up another war just for the hell of it."

Hoffman caught his eye and waved them over.

"No time like the present, Fenix. Ready to go drag our captive to the post?"

"Uh huh," Marcus muttered, staring up towards the storage area. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see us."

* * *

**A/N: Here's the update, as promised! Happy belated Thanksgiving :-)**


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37: **

Griffin was unexpectedly cooperative. From the moment Marcus pushed the door open he had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face that Baird was just itching to smash the butt of his rifle into.

Marcus had sworn he could handle it alone, but Baird and Cole had followed along anyway. As long as Hoffman was busy playing diplomat, making a more formal introduction between Gavriel and Ollivar, someone needed to come along as back up. When Marcus was far enough out of ear shot, Baird had told Cole he only wanted to go along to make sure Fenix didn't snap this guy's neck, too.

Anything he could do to cover up the fact that he was looking out for someone else.

Hoffman and Gavriel had agreed on a place outside of town for the execution. The news didn't take long to spread through the civilian population, though. The walk through town felt like a parade. Nearly everyone had come out of their houses or back from fishing to watch the spectacle.

"Guess this is entertainment, to them," Baird muttered, keeping a close eye on Griffin as Marcus ushered him down the street.

Cole sighed and shook his head. "Shit, there's _kids_ out here. I hope they ain't coming along."

Baird scoffed. "Nothing like a little family bonding over an execution." He quickened his pace for a moment to put himself in a better position to see Griffin's face. The lack of fear was really starting to piss him off. But then he'd been captured by Locust before, and refused to let _them_ see just how close he was to pissing himself. He couldn't really expect someone like Griffin to let a few Gears see how scared he really was.

Or maybe he'd simply accepted death already, and was getting his last bit of pleasure he'd ever have by screwing with them.

But he wasn't really going to get another chance to ask him.

"Hey, asshole. You seem awfully calm for someone who's about to die." Baird didn't bother pulling any punches. Griffin didn't deserve any civility as far as he was concerned. Plus he figured he'd get a better idea of where his head was by his reaction.

Griffin laughed. "Ain't no point in puttin' up a fight. I'm smart enough to realize my odds. But that don't mean I can't enjoy watching you all think you're ending your troubles when the real shit is gonna start as soon as people find out the COG was behind what happened to me."

"I don't know if you hit your head on the way in," Baird started. "But you don't exactly _have_ people to avenge you. _Your_ people are now the happy, smelly followers of that asshole up there." Baird gestured toward Ollivar who was standing next to Hoffman with his arms folded, looking mighty pleased as they approached. "They've moved on. In a few years no one will even remember you."

"Yeah, we'll see." Griffin had his head held high. Even with the swollen lip and bruises he looked way too cocky.

Marcus pushed him forward, causing him to stumble for a step. "Enough talking. Move."

Hoffman and Ollivar, followed closely by Gavriel, strode the last few yards to meet them. Gavriel looked uncomfortable, and he refused to make eye contact with Griffin. Instead he looked to Marcus.

"We've got a place set up. I told everyone to stay home, but I have a feeling some of them are going to follow." Gavriel's face was a mixture of disgust and pity.

"You can stay here, you know," Marcus said. He wasn't the type of guy to let anyone off easy, but it wasn't hard to see that Gavriel was still wrestling with handing over a death sentence.

Marcus' offer seemed to snap him out of his thoughts. He stood up a little straighter and steeled the set of his jaw. "Thanks, Sergeant. But if I can't be a part of it, then I shouldn't be administering it."

There was no arguing with that logic. Marcus gave him a nod before looking to Hoffman with that look that said he was ready to get on with it.

Before Hoffman could say anything, Ollivar leaned in closer to Griffin, meeting his eyes fiercely.

"Colonel Hoffman here agreed to loan me a rifle."

Griffin snorted. "Even the biggest assholes throw their dog a bone sometimes."

"Call it whatever you want. You're just pissed that after all that bullshit, one of us was smart enough to survive, and it wasn't you," Ollivar replied with a sneer.

"Yeah, until he's done using you. Then you'll be in the same boat I am," Griffin said with complete confidence.

Ollivar smiled and leaned back. "Just because you're too wound up in your hatred for the COG to realize a good opportunity when you see it doesn't mean I am. And to think, if you'd just taken a minute to try to work something out with me, this could have been avoided. I would say it could be a learning opportunity, but you won't really get a chance, will you?"

"Go to Hell," Griffin said, his smile finally fading into a bitter scowl.

"You first," Ollivar replied, taking over the arrogant smirk.

"Alright, come on." Hoffman said, tugging Ollivar's shoulder and shooting him a stern look. "The civvies are starting to get squirmy. Let's get this asshole out of here."

Gavriel was right. As they started the slow walk towards the gate, a scattered handful of civilians had fallen in behind them.

A large group of Gears, complete with the rest of Delta, was standing entrance to the town. Even Rossi had made the trip. Based on the expression on Alex's face as he leaned heavily on her shoulder, he should have been in bed. But for most of the Gears that had been stationed here it was the chance to watch the cause of all of their problems for the last few weeks be taken care of, and no one wanted to miss it. That seemed to apply to everyone.

Hoffman took the lead, with Ollivar and Gavriel falling in on either side of him. For a flashing moment it reminded Bernie of what she'd called the Triumvirate; Hoffman, Michaelson and Trescu. But Michaelson was dead, and Ollivar would _never_ take his place; sailor or not. And Gavriel was no Trescu.

But the three of them together would form an odd working relationship. They'd have to. It'd be difficult, sure, but what wasn't these days? Bernie could only be grateful Prescott wasn't in the mix to keep it extra interesting. She felt terrible admitting that, even if it was only in her head, but it was true.

It wasn't long before Marcus trudged by, still pushing Griffin along ahead of him, with Baird and Cole to either side. Bernie caught herself smiling at the sight of the three of them. They'd only been apart a few weeks this time, a far cry from the eighteen months they'd spent apart before. It tugged at her heart, like a mother reunited whose sons had come back from the war but she knew they'd be leaving again.

Baird caught her smiling and gave her the classic Baird smirk back. He'd clearly misinterpreted her smile as shared triumph. But it wasn't the time to correct him, or let herself get distracted with irrelevant emotions. So she gave him the steel-jawed nod and fell in behind them. She'd save the senseless worry and dread for another time.

Everyone else fell into the procession gradually. It wasn't long before they'd made it to the dirt road where the old fence posts still stood. Hoffman gestured towards one of them and Marcus began the slow process of securing Griffin to it with the ever vigilant Baird and Cole hovering nearby. Baird put on a show of keeping his rifle readied, but Cole had clipped his to his back to keep his hands free. The idea of firing a rifle that close to Marcus didn't sit well with him.

Hoffman had cut the number of shooters off at eight, but with Ollivar's insistence it had become nine. Hoffman was one of them, of course. Baird and Marcus, too. They each had their own reasons for feeling obligated. Bernie committed too, but only for Cole's sake. She made him promise not to. The poor lad could only take so much more before even he lost that constant optimism and she just wouldn't let that happen. Alex and Sam refused to be made to sit another hard task out. Same with Jace. And the last man they didn't recognize at first, but the night before Bernie had pulled Marcus aside and told them there was a Gear whose brother had been killed when one of the boats sank who had asked Hoffman to allow him to participate as a personal favor to him and his family.

As Marcus finally finished with Griffin's hands he took a step back and gave him a last look that from anyone else would have been pity. But from Marcus it was only grim resignation.

He turned with Baird and Cole and walked back towards the rest of the waiting squad and Hoffman extended his arm, holding a dark, ragged pillowcase.

"Here," he said. "We still have some decency."

"You can keep that shit," Griffin called. "If you don't have the balls to look at me that's on you."

"Have it your way," Hoffman said, dropping the tattered cloth to the ground. He wasn't about to argue with a man who'd be dead in ten minutes anyhow. And who was he to tell someone how they should spend their last few minutes of life. If he wanted to stare them in the eyes until the last moment of brain activity, then so be it. Hoffman couldn't begrudge him that.

Everyone on the firing squad took up their positions and sighted up. The people standing by to spectate ran the full gambit of expressions from trepidation to almost amused. The typical core members of the squad hovered closer than the other Gears, and the few civilians were even further back. Gavriel was somewhere in between looking incredibly isolated, but something in his attitude had permanently shifted and his face was only showing determination.

Rossi was now leaning on Cole, trying desperately not to let the pain he was in show on his face. He stared hard at Griffin, clearly blaming him entirely for the shape he was in. If he were in any shape to hold his lancer he'd have been at the head of the line to volunteer to put a bullet in Griffin's head. Being sidelined for this only added to his agitation.

Hoffman's voice filled the silence that hung heavily in the warm afternoon air.

"Any last words, Griffin?" He wasn't sure why he even asked. He was certain he'd get some sarcastic response meant only to rile people up; a final attempt at an insignificant victory that would make him feel like he could still have some power over the small town he'd had his men terrorize. But something about the situation seemed to call for the question. It was just what he imagined someone in his place would have said.

Griffin's head had dropped briefly as the dehydration and hunger had once again weaved its way into the forefront of his mind. But the voice snapped him right back to reality, and he quickly recovered and managed to hide whatever was actually going through his head.

"Yeah," he said. "Fuck you."

Hoffman just nodded once. No response would be worth the effort it would take to say it, and it would only serve to make him look like a bully to antagonize a man tied to a post about to be riddled with bullet holes.

Hoffman glanced over his shoulder to Gavriel.

Stepping forward, closer to Hoffman and the others, Gavriel cleared his throat before raising his voice enough for Griffin, and the rest of the bystanders, to hear.

"Mr. Griffin, as a result of your actions and the crimes you've committed, you've been sentenced to death. On behalf of the Coalition of Ordered Governmnts, these soldiers will now carry that out."

His voice didn't waver once. Bernie was impressed.

It was Hoffman's turn now to speak. His eyes had that slightly glazed over look that he'd had in the clearing just before they'd executed the other men they'd caught. He was present and absent all at the same time.

"Alright, Gears. You've got your orders. On my count. Three…Two…" He paused for a moment and looked over to the brother of the dead Gear, seeming to get whatever last hint of affirmation that they were doing the right thing, before finishing the countdown.

"One…Fire."

The silence was thoroughly shattered as the bursts of gunfire echoed in the large valley. The typical firing squad execution was done with single shots from each officer, but then the typical firing squad wasn't comprised of people with so much built up anger towards the target. It seemed nearly every person with a rifle had fired at least five rounds in a line from top to bottom. The brother, whose name Bernie had only just remembered was Ryan, seemed to empty half of his magazine before he finally stopped.

As quickly as it ended the silence was back. The ringing would take a moment to fade from their ears, but for a moment time seemed to freeze. Then the scattered applause began. It started with just one man. Bernie turned immediately to see the face of the father of the young Gear and his dead brother. His eyes were glassy, but his face was hard as stone. His wife stood by his side, clutching a handkerchief with tears streaming down her cheek as she followed suit.

Soon it rippled like a wave through the civvies and the Gears leaving only the squad and the rest of Delta standing silent and unmoved. Anya could only see the side of Marcus' face, but his face flickered briefly with disgust before settling on exasperation. She knew he wouldn't be able to get the entire spectacle over with fast enough.

Hoffman turned to face the crowd, his satisfaction getting the better of him. But something about a crowd of people applauding a man's death still struck him as distasteful, even if every person there had earned the right to do it.

He raised his hands to quiet the crowd after a moment, letting them get their peace before he spoke.

"Alright folks, go back to the fort. It's over." He waited for the crowd to disperse, trying not to let anyone see how eager he was to wash his hands of the situation as well.

Eventually nearly everyone had left. Delta remained, of course, along with Hoffman and Bernie.

"Anyone bring a shovel?" Baird asked, desperate to break the uneasy silence. "Or are we leaving him here as a warning to any other assholes that want to pick a fight with the grumpiest old couple in the neighborhood?"

Bernie came up next to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and for once he didn't even pretend to hate it.

"I was gonna knit a flag to warn them off, but you think this would work better?" She was trying just a little too hard to be funny, but Baird appreciated the gesture.

Hoffman gestured past the limp body. "We sent some men out yesterday. Hole's already dug. Shovels should still be there."

Baird slid out from under Bernie's arm before reaching out to tap Marcus' shoulder with the back of his hand. "Come on, Fenix. His ass is heavy."

As Marcus and Baird tugged the ropes loose and hauled the body over to the hole, Cole came up next to Bernie and sighed heavily. "Now what?"

She patted his arm lovingly, staring hard at the two men wrestling with the corpse. "Well, sweetheart, now we go home. We get some chow and be grateful that we've got each other because if it were up to that tosser they're throwing in that grave, we wouldn't."

"It's that easy, huh?" Cole asked quietly. He was staring at Baird and Marcus too, but his good nature was really taking a beating today.

"It isn't, Cole," Anya said quietly. It wasn't until then that Bernie realized she and Sam had come up to join them. "But it would have been for him, and that's the difference."

Cole took a deep breath before finally peeling his eyes away from Marcus and Baird as they shoveled the dirt over the grave. He offered Anya a half-hearted smile.

"I guess you're right, ma'am." He started to walk back towards town before turning back to face them.

"I'm not much in the mood for lunch. You mind if I stop by and see that little guy you brought back? I could use some cheering up."

Anya looked thoughtfully at Marcus for a moment. He'd no doubt want to go have a few drinks and she could catch up with him later. She always knew where to find him.

Forcing herself to smile a little brighter than she felt like, she looked back to Cole. Slipping her arm through his in the easy way a friend would, she pulled him along back towards town.

"Sure, Cole. I was heading that way anyhow." She looked back to Bernie one last time. "We'll meet you all in The Mess, okay?"

Bernie shot her a quick salute. "Yes ma'am."

Once Cole and Anya had all but disappeared from sight, Marcus and Baird had come back to join the rest of the squad.

"So who's up for a drink?" Baird asked, wiping the dirt on his hands off onto his pants. Realizing he'd gotten a lot more blood on him than he realized, he groaned.

"A celebratory drink, or a sorrow drowning drink?" Bernie asked.

"Why can't it be both?" he replied, doing a quick scan and realizing Cole was gone.

Bernie caught the question in his eyes before he'd had time to form it into a coherent thought.

"He went to the med bay with Anya. Off to see the baby. He figured it'd perk him up a bit."

Baird scoffed, turning his attention back to the blood stains on his pants and hands. "He's a sucker for the kids." It was just as well that he wasn't worrying about Cole waiting for him with a cold drink; he could use a hot shower and a change of clothes.

"It's that funny little thing called a heart, Blondie," Bernie said. But she didn't miss the shift in his attitude. "Go get yourself cleaned up. I'll save you a seat." She looked to Marcus, ensuring he understood she was talking to the both of them.

Marcus met her eyes with an ice cold, vacant stare. His mind was clearly elsewhere. Bernie assumed it was still on the events that had just transpired, but knowing Marcus it could be anything. She tilted her head in silent question, but he seemed to ignore it.

"First round's on me," he said, trying to divert her attention.

"Yeah, I'll just put it on your tab," she replied.

As they went through the gates of the fort, the rest of the squad split off towards The Mess as Marcus and Baird turned towards the old barracks where the fort showers were.

"Shit," Baird muttered.

"What?" Marcus kept his eyes fixed ahead as he asked.

"I don't think this shit's coming out." Baird was staring thoughtfully at the largest bloodstain on his pants leg.

"Maybe Hoffman can get you some new ones," Marcus said, still obviously distracted.

Baird picked his head back up, deciding to push his luck with Marcus.

"What the hell's got you so pissed off? Not that it takes much, but I mean, come on. We just got rid of the guy who was ready to start a whole new war. You can't tell me you have a problem with that."

Marcus slowed his pace for a half-second, and Baird decided he must have caught him off guard. It wouldn't matter though. He knew Marcus wasn't going to answer him. Just as they made their way through the doors into the old stone building Marcus finally responded.

"Are you coming back to Azura?"

Baird came to a complete stop and couldn't stop his jaw from falling open for a moment. Not only was Marcus not the type to ask personal questions, but he couldn't remember ever mentioning anything about it anywhere around him.

He groaned. "Lemme guess; a woman with a big mouth told another woman with a big mouth."

Marcus shrugged before settling back into his typical thoughtful frown. "That's not an answer."

"Are _you_ gonna try to tell me where to go, too? 'Cause I gotta tell you, I'm pretty sure Byrne's persuasion would be stronger than yours."

"Just asking," Marcus said. "We could use you back there. The scientists and staff are all dead. Someone's gonna have to decode all that shit."

"And you think that's my job?" Baird asked skeptically.

"I think you're an asshole," he replied, completely matter-of-factly. "But you know what you're doing, and if anyone's gonna figure most of that shit out, it's you."

It was one of the only compliments he could ever remember Marcus giving him. Suddenly he was feeling like the world really was going to end.

He rubbed the back of his head, awkwardly trying to settle on an acceptable response. He knew Marcus would never be one to point out the socially acceptable behavior that he should be using, but he still felt obligated to provide him with some sort of gratitude.

"Thanks, Fenix," he mumbled.

Marcus nodded. "Just give me an answer soon. We can't stay here forever. Not yet, anyway."

"Not yet?" That caught Baird's attention more than anything else.

"We can't live on that island forever. The Stranded haven't found it yet, but with the maelstrom gone and no grubs to slow them down it's only a matter of time. We need to get a presence back on the mainland."

Baird nearly dropped his jaw again. _Are we really talking about the future, now? _

"So why rebuild the resort?" Baird asked, still trying to wrap his head around the conversation.

"No sense in living in a shithole. Besides, someone will always be there, even if it's not Delta," Marcus said.

So Marcus intended on keeping the squad together. Baird wondered how long it would last. When they'd split up the population after leaving Vectes they kept saying it was only temporary. So was this just the completion of that dream? Trying to get everyone closer and closer together. Trying to recreate the security and closeness they'd initially had in Jacinto.

Baird saw how that story ended before. But he couldn't fault him for the idea.

When he really thought about it, and this thought scared the shit out of him; If it were up to him, they'd all be back together anyhow.

Now he just had to figure out how to help Marcus and the rest of them make that dream a reality.


	38. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER 38: **

The evening had come quickly. Ollivar and his men had accepted the invitation for lunch, but left soon after. Hoffman had agreed to let them take four boats back with them. After they'd gotten out of earshot Baird had asked if he was starting to feel too much sympathy for them, but Hoffman swore it was simply to avoid the headache of converting even more vessels to take a different fuel.

After Baird and Marcus had finally gotten cleaned up they'd made their way to The Mess. There weren't as many people milling around as there normally would be at dinner time, but the large center table that had become their typical place in a matter of days was overcrowded as usual.

Hoffman, Bernie and Pad sat across from Sam, Jace and Carmine. It was like looking down both sides of a trick mirror that let you see the future if you squinted hard enough to blur the features of their faces.

Baird noticed Cole's absence immediately. They'd been together for so long it had become almost ritualistic to check for him any time he entered a large, crowded room. He automatically assumed he was still with Anya, and as he did a quick scan of the rest of the room he noticed the frown deepening on Marcus' face he realized he must have been right.

Bernie spotted them right away.

"There's my boys. Did you remember to get under your nails?" She pushed two plates to the head of the table where two empty seats were waiting for them.

Marcus sank heavily into his seat first, but Baird was nearly on top of him. Whatever was on that plate smelled delicious, and he'd forgotten just how hungry he was.

"Mhmm," he mumbled between bites. "The pants are fucked though." He'd tried his best to get the blood out, but the carbolic soap just wasn't doing the trick this time.

"That's a shame. I'm sure I can find you some though," Bernie offered.

The small talk went on for a while. For the last few days they'd spent so much time together there weren't many new things to talk about. Instead they'd settled on stories about their eighteen months apart that they'd missed sharing the last time they were together punctuated with old favorites. Even the ones starring Dom seemed to sting a bit less with the comfortable camaraderie they'd built cushioning the hurt.

Cole and Anya had joined them a short time later and crammed into the already crowded table. As always, Cole's overwhelming exuberance made it that much easier to give in to the campfire style story telling. Even Marcus participated this time, surprising even Anya, when Bernie had managed to talk him into telling Pad about the riftworm they'd killed under Ilima. She'd heard the story before, but the ritual of sharing war stories was one of her favorites; repeats didn't make it any less enjoyable.

After Marcus and Baird had helped themselves to seconds from the kitchen the subtle silence had weaved its way back into the air. The conversation had split into small side discussions with no threads holding them together.

"So, how long are you staying?" Pad was looking at Marcus, finally asking the question no one else wanted to.

Suddenly the low chatter faded. If it weren't for the ambient noise from the rest of the patrons, there would be absolute silence. Sam shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pressed between Cole and Baird. Hoffman stiffened up while Bernie sank back into her seat, lowering her head with a frown.

No one really wanted to hear the answer, even if it needed saying.

"Could be tomorrow. Depends on what the doc says," he finally answered. "As soon as the kid gets the all clear we'll head out."

Hoffman arched his eyebrow. "So the kid gets a first class trip to Azura?"

"If you call those boats we came in on 'first class' you really _are_ going senile," Baird muttered.

Bernie ignored him, staring at Anya with slightly widened eyes. "Does that mean the lucky little bugger is going home with you?"

Anya nodded quickly, becoming rapidly aware that everyone was now staring at her. Cole was the only one who'd been kept even slightly in the loop, and even he wasn't completely sure of what was going to happen.

"Yeah. He is." She smiled back at Bernie trying to look a little more confident than she felt. "Guess we'll have to get some milk for the trip home."

"I'll make sure you get it," Bernie said with a wide smile. She nudged Hoffman with her arm. "Look at that, Vic. We're grandparents after all."

Hoffman chuckled dryly. "Thanks. I hadn't felt my age yet today."

Truthfully there wasn't a day that went by that he _hadn't_ felt every bit of his age. Each day was punctuated with little moments that helped him forget, but his bones still felt the same ache when he collapsed into his cot each night. But being surrounded by the people he'd spent the last fifteen years building relationships with certainly helped him feel better, even if he couldn't feel younger.

But he wasn't about to tell anyone that. Sure, Bernie would figure it out. She always did. But to say anything to Delta would put a kind of burden on them that no one deserved to bear. After all, it wasn't as if they were _needed_ back at Azura. It would be too easy to convince them to stay for a few days. But a few days would turn into a few weeks, then a few months, and poor Michaelson would be running that island on his own with Trescu and the rest of the Gorasni serving as his go-to team when things needed to be done.

Hoffman knew it was impossible to replace Delta squad, which made it that much harder to let them go yet again. It was nearly impossible the last time, and then they'd been able to maintain an illusion that they'd see each other occasionally. Now there was a crippling fuel problem that could take years to overcome.

_And who knows how many years I've got left? After all the shit I've done, I think I've earned the right to be a little selfish._

But he knew he was only lying to himself. He hadn't gotten his job, and kept it, by giving in to his own selfish desires instead of doing things for the greater good.

Truth be told, he was really fucking sick of the greater good.

The conversation had started up around him again and Hoffman just let it play out like a movie. Baird was giving Bernie a hard time about something, and she was giving it right back. Sam and Anya were discussing the things they'd need to the return trip, and Cole was asking them to make sure he ended up with extra sick bags.

Hoffman eventually allowed himself to rejoin the discussion, pushing the troubling thoughts to the side for the moment. He wasn't about to let it ruin what could be the last evening they'd all have together.

As the evening wound down and the bar emptied out, Marcus rose to go. Anya shot him a questioning look.

"Rossi," he said simply.

She nodded and offered him a small smile as he disappeared through the front doors.

"What's all that about?" Bernie asked.

Anya sighed as she leaned back in her seat, finally starting to feel the tug of sleep at the corners of her mind. "Drew made him promise to come by before we left. He wanted to tell him some things about Dom."

The mention of Dom caught her off guard, and Bernie swallowed hard, but smiled through it. "He's a good lad."

"Yeah, that's what I hear from all the women," Sam cut in. Dom's name had gotten her attention too, pulling her away from listening to Jace and Carmine discuss their plans for the future.

"Shit, with him out of commission maybe we oughta hang around for a few days. Let Jace and Carmine keep his customers happy." Cole was laughing before he managed to finish the sentence, hoping it would cover up the hint of sincerity in his desire to stay.

Jace heard his name immediately and turned to ask what he missed, earning scattered laughter from the others.

"Shit, after what I've heard about Rossi, these two kids would be leaving some pissed off women behind," Baird said.

"Yeah, Baird. 'Cause you could do better," Jace shot back. A sly smirk made its way to his face. "But I guess you'd have to check with Sam first, now."

Baird glared at him, hard, but Sam's laughter from beside him broke some of the tension.

She reached across and patted Jace's hand lightly. "While I wouldn't wish his mouth on anyone, can't say the same about the rest of him. Mechanics have a way with their hands, you know."

Carmine groaned loudly. "I did _not_ need to hear that."

Another round of laughter ensued, leading into yet another bout of friendly chatter. After another hour passed, Anya stood to go.

"I have to stop by and see the baby before I turn in." She left the implication that she was going to find Marcus silent. Turning towards Hoffman with a regretful expression she sighed. "And Gettner was looking for you earlier, sir. I'm sorry."

Hoffman shook his head. "I'll find her. She's probably still shitting herself wondering what I've got to say."

Bernie chuckled quietly. "She's probably more worried about how she's gonna get that Raven back to the island."

"Or 'if'," Pad said, shoveling a last handful of nuts into his mouth before sliding out of the booth. "Won't you need someone to pilot that other boat since Dizzy is staying here?"

"Because a boat and a Raven are the same," Baird said.

Pad shot him a stern look. He'd never had the chance to develop that patience for Baird's attitude that the others had. He'd met him years ago and disliked him nearly immediately. They would be able to work together, because they had to, but Pad was always thankful he'd never been stuck one on one with the guy.

Sam elbowed Baird in the side, pushing him towards the end of the booth so she could get out. As she moved to follow Anya to the door she caught Pad by the arm.

"If you really want to piss him off, just be extra nice to him," she said with a wink.

Cole took his chance to get up before Baird could fall back into the seat. "I'm gonna do my gentlemanly duty and see you ladies out. Seein' as there's a bunk with my name on it, I'll call it a night."

He put on a big show of sticking out his elbows, letting Sam and Anya each wrap an arm through as they went for the door.

Pad and Baird made their excuses and left within minutes, and Jace and Carmine wondered off to find their own entertainment for the rest of the evening, leaving Hoffman and Bernie sitting alone at the empty booth in comfortable silence.

Bernie eventually let her head fall to Hoffman's shoulder with a heavy sigh.

"So now what, Vic?"

Hoffman scanned the room for a moment before letting his eyes fall to the table.

"Hell if I know," he said. "We say goodbye, again. And we start to rebuild. And we hope that we end up closer together before the two of us are too damn old to travel."

She laughed quietly and patted his arm softly. "Then I'll just have Blondie build us some steam power wheelchairs. One for Mac, too." She kept her head turned to the side, keeping him from seeing the tears brimming in her eyes.

"If anyone could," he started, but didn't bother finishing.

"Come on," she said, giving him a gentle shove with her shoulder as she picked her head up. "I want to get a good rest so we can enjoy whatever time we've got tomorrow."

He pushed himself out of the booth and waited for her to do the same before falling in next to her.

"Yeah. We can worry about the next day when it gets here."

* * *

The next morning came all too quickly for anyone. The doctor had given the baby a clean bill of health the night before but let him stay until the morning. The nurses were having a great time playing with him, and since there had been a drastic decrease in injuries since the Stranded problem had been solved they weren't exactly overwhelmed with patients.

Anya had agreed to come pick him up in the afternoon. She'd be busy preparing the boats all morning. Dizzy's girls had volunteered to help, mostly so they'd get some extra time with Sam.

By mid-morning Bernie had made her way down to the docks with Mac trudging along slowly beside her. Anya, Sam and the girls had been busy and the boats were already completely packed. Anya cleared the gap between Trilliant and the dock, lost in her mental checklist for a moment before she caught sight of Bernie.

"Been busy, I see," Bernie said, trying to hide her disappointment. She half-hoped they'd be too far behind to take off today, but based on Anya's strict attention to detail and order there was little to no chance of that.

Anya strode up to meet her, leaving Sam, Teresa and Maralin at the end of the peer laughing and talking like sisters.

She wiped her hands on her pants leg as she spoke. "Yeah, we started early. I even got some clothes for the little guy from one of the women from Pelruan."

Bernie shook her head with a soft chuckle. "Are you ever gonna name the little bugger?"

Anya laughed back. "I know! We keep putting it off." Her smile remained, but her eyes and tone shifted to sadness as she lowered her voice, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Sam was still out of ear shot.

"I wanted to name him after someone. But where do you even start? I mean, my first thought was Dom…" Her voice trailed off.

"But Marcus would never go for that," Bernie offered, receiving a nod.

"Sweetheart, you can hardly argue with him. No one wants to be reminded of one of the most painful moments of their life every bloody day."

"I know," Anya said quietly. She inhaled deeply and sighed, straightening herself back up as she pushed the thought out of her head. "So, we're still tossing ideas around."

"Tell Vic you're naming him after him. Watch how uncomfortable he gets," Bernie said with a devious grin.

"Unless he thinks it's sweet, and then I have to listen to Marcus be uncomfortable saying 'Vic' instead of 'colonel'," Anya replied.

"So we'd both win," Bernie replied, once again giving in to laughter. It was easier this way. The jokes kept you from really giving in to what you were feeling. If she had a choice, she'd chose to do every goodbye this way.

"Speaking of," Anya said, gesturing past Bernie.

Bernie spun to see Hoffman walking towards them, accompanied by, of all people, Marcus. And shockingly, they both seemed close to smiling.

"Now there's a sight I'd never get used to." Bernie shot them a quick wave.

"It only took fifteen years," Anya said.

"I see the women have already done the hard work," Hoffman said as he got close enough to eliminate any need to raise his voice. "Looks like we got here just in time, Fenix."

Marcus made a low scoffing sound. "Yeah, we missed the fun."

"You tell everyone else when we're leaving?" Anya asked him.

He nodded. "Cole's rounding them up. Gettner's coming too."

"She's not going to have enough fuel to keep pace with us," Anya said, furrowing her brow as she ran the numbers in her head.

"She's gonna go out ahead and scout. With Barber keeping track of everything she'll be fine."

"Take a few extra cans along," Hoffman said. "The fort is mostly self-sufficient anyhow. And once Matheison's lead on the Solaro plant pans out we won't need it anyway."

"Never known you to be an optimist, Colonel," Marcus said.

"Funny how that happened, isn't it?" Hoffman replied.

"So you're going to, then?" Bernie asked, suddenly glancing past Anya as Sam came up behind her.

Marcus did the rapid blink that meant surprise and Bernie realized she may have just let go of a secret that wasn't hers to share.

Sam looked embarrassed for a moment, but she smiled through it. "Yeah. I'll miss it here, but I have to go where I'm needed."

Bernie wasn't about to make an argument that she could be needed at Anvil Gate as well. She knew firsthand how hard it was to leave the place you'd grown up in, and she knew even better how hard it was to be apart from people you care about. Any sort of case about her staying would only compound the guilt and Bernie refused to be the person who put someone through that.

"Yeah, we all do," Bernie replied, sparing a glance at Hoffman and earning a gruff snort from him. "But we'll see each other again. And soon. You've got to keep me updated on the taming of the blonde one."

"Will do," Sam replied, her voice straining just a little. The conversation was starting to turn down a sensitive road, and no one was ready for that just yet.

"So how long do we have you for, then?" Bernie asked Anya, trying to deflect some attention off of Sam for a moment to let her recover her composure.

"We're leaving in a few hours," Anya said softly, sounding as regretful as she ever had.

Bernie nodded, refusing to give in to the dread that was slowly starting to work its way around her heart. "Then I suppose we've got time for one last drink. The lot of you."

And she meant it.

Sam raised the others on the radio, including Pad, Dizzy and Alex, who snuck Rossi out of the hospital yet again, and told them to meet at The Mess. On the way Anya stopped by the hospital to sign out the baby, who still needed a name.

The group of them stood around the bar for one last time, passing around small glasses of beer and a few shots of Dizzy's best moonshine, and made one last toast to Delta, and to everyone they'd lost, and to everyone else who had survived. After a short time it became painfully obvious that everyone was just postponing the inevitable and they slowly weaved their way out of the bar and walked, en masse, towards the pier.

When there was no way to put it off any longer, they started the long process of goodbyes. It was like Port Farrall all over again, only this time it was Hoffman and Bernie standing by as the others walked down the line passing out hugs and handshakes wherever they made sense.

Finally Anya came up to Hoffman with the baby wrapped snuggly in a blanket in her arms, and he fought back that lump in his throat yet again.

"Shit," he muttered. "I'm never gonna get used to this."

"I know, sir. We'll miss you, too." She leaned in and hugged him, giving him a cordially light kiss on the cheek. As she stepped away she smiled at him, obviously trying to keep herself together.

"Your mother would be _damn_ proud of you, Anya. Damn proud." He caught himself staring at the baby for a moment before meeting her eyes again. Seeing her start to unravel he felt guilty for saying it, but not as guilty as he would have to have left it unsaid.

Marcus had come up beside her and leaned a little closer than Hoffman had ever remembered seeing him do when he knew people were watching.

_Yeah, Funny how time changes people, isn't it Fenix?_

"Sir," Marcus said with a nod. He stuck his hand out and Hoffman caught it.

"Fenix," he said back, trying to keep his bravado from giving way. But after only a moment he realized that he'd reached the point in his life where he just didn't give a shit anymore.

He pulled Marcus in for a hug, patting him firmly on the back. Marcus clenched his jaw and his eyes widened, but he returned the gesture with only the briefest hesitation.

Bernie's heart swelled. Of all the things she'd seen in her life it struck her hard. Sometimes there was no rhyme or reason to the things that affected you, but there was no way around it.

Before anyone could even say anything, even if they could have thought of something worth saying, Hoffman had let Marcus go and taken a step back, putting him back next to Bernie. They exchanged nods before Marcus turned and ushered a teary eyed Anya towards the boat he'd be piloting in Dizzy's absence.

As the boat engines overcame the sounds of the water and the sea birds, Bernie wrapped her arm through Hoffman's again, wondering if anything she could say would make the situation any easier.

She decided it wouldn't, and stayed silent. But after a moment she heard his voice from beside her.

"'Till next time, right babe?"

"Mhmm," she mumbled, swallowing hard and letting her eyes close briefly.

There _would_ be a next time. She swore it to herself.

"Here we go," Anya said, taking a seat on the deck as she adjusted the baby in her lap. "Time to go home."

Marcus had taken his place behind the wheel and would be there for most of the night, most likely. Carmine was taking the first rest shift, but he was sitting on the deck with Anya for now, ever cheerful.

"He's cute, ma'am. Reminds me of my kid brother," he offered.

"Yeah, he is. How old is your brother now?" she asked, staring at the pier again as the boat slowly accelerated towards the horizon.

"Fourteen. Mom's real happy he never got the chance to enlist," he answered, pulling a ration bar from his pocket.

"I bet," she said. But there was much more behind the thought. She realized just how easy it was to forget that not every family story ended in tragedy these days. The Carmine family had lost two sons already, but there was no more concrete proof of the shift in the world than the realization that the Carmine family would never have to be presented with another son's COG tags.

And that alone seemed to make everything worth it.

"You doin' alright, Sam?" Cole asked. The boat had barely made it anywhere but he was already feeling sick.

She leaned over the rear rail staring back into everyone's face like she was trying to memorize them individually. Looking back to Baird at the wheel she sighed before returning her eyes to the crowd.

"It never gets easier," she said softly.

"Boomer lady says to just wave once and don't look back. But I don't think I got the willpower for that, baby. So I'm gonna sit my ass here with you until we can't see them no more, 'cause I don't wanna say goodbye any more than you do."

"Thanks, Cole," she said sincerely.

They stayed there until the pier was just a small speck in their vision, but they could tell no one had moved from the dock either. It seemed that no one was really ready to say goodbye this time.

A few minutes passed before the sound of a Raven's rotors was barely audible in the distance. It gradually grew louder as the Raven appeared in the sky behind them.

"Ready to go home, Delta?" Getter's voice said over the radio.

"Lead the way," Marcus said in their ears.

And as the sun set that evening, the sleeping shifts began. It wasn't long before Carmine was sound asleep and Anya made her way into the wheel house with Marcus, staring out ahead of them, the baby now sleeping in her arms.

"All quiet?" she asked softly, carefully eyeing the sleeping child.

"Looks like it," he replied.

She paused for a moment, tilting her said to the side with an odd smile.

"What?" he asked, noticing her face in his peripheral vision.

"It's finally going to be like this all the time, isn't it?"

There was a hope in her voice that even Marcus had never heard before. As a CIC controller she had perfected the art of a hopefully optimistic tone, even when the world was going to shit around them. But this was different. There was nothing forced or rehearsed about it. This was genuine, real hope.

He found himself laughing quietly for a moment, earning a quizzical look from her.

"I friggin' hope so."


	39. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE: **

**20 A.E. **

**Porra, Vasgar**

**6:00 hours**

The small intercom next to the bed was buzzing at an obnoxiously loud level. Anya jerked her hand free of the heavy blanket and cleared the rasp of sleep from her throat before pressing the speaker button.

"Major Fenix?" the small voice on the other side asked, clearly reluctant to be bothering anyone this early in the morning.

"Yes, I'm here," she replied, ensuring she'd managed to sound as if she was already awake.

"I'm sorry to bother you ma'am," the voice replied. "But the General has been trying to reach you. He says your phone must be off the hook, and your radio wasn't on."

Anya sighed heavily before replying. "Did it sound urgent?"

"No ma'am," the woman responded, sounding even more uneasy. "But he wanted you to know he'd be here in a few hours, and asked that you radio him when you get a moment."

"Thank you, Sarah. I will." Anya released the button and fell back into the bed.

"What time is it?" asked the gruff voice beside her.

"Six," she replied through a yawn, squirming her way closer to him. "We've still got an hour to sleep."

Marcus chuckled, wrapping his massive arms around her. "I've got a better idea."

* * *

The smell of coffee permeated through the modest apartment by the time Marcus had finished in the shower. He'd put on an old pair of combat pants and was pulling a fresh black tee shirt over his head as he made his way into the kitchen.

The apartment complex they'd moved into only had half a dozen units, but each one had at least two bedrooms. They'd only moved there from Azura a year ago, and Matheison had originally set them up in a larger, single family dwelling. But in true Marcus fashion, he wouldn't hear of it. He'd immediately offered to swap with a family of five, a young Gear with his wife and three young children, for the more reasonable apartment. Anya hadn't even considered protesting. She would have done the same thing.

Now she stood at the counter, flipping through the morning newspaper as she sipped her drink slowly. As always, the involuntary smile pulled the corners of her lips up as she saw him.

"Breakfast?" she asked, already knowing the answer. She'd never seen the man turn down a meal in his life.

He slid into the stool beside her, pulling his plate towards him. She'd already scooped a heap of eggs onto it, complete with bacon and a fresh biscuit.

She folded the newspaper to the open page and slid it over to him as he started shoveling food into his mouth.

"They're opening another solar plant," she said. "Outside of Reine. That makes two this month."

"Great. That'll give Baird something else to talk about all night," he replied, staring thoughtfully at the headline.

"He got back last night," she said. "Sam got off duty this morning, so we probably won't see them until tonight."

"Good," he muttered. "Last thing we need is those two at the table after being apart for two weeks."

Anya chuckled softly as she dropped her cup into the sink. She glanced down the short hallway that led to their room. The second door was still closed.

"He was up in the middle of the night again, you know," she said with a hint of scolding in her voice.

She was, of course, referring to the now five year old they'd taken in. He'd been named for Marcus' father; Jonathon. They'd settled on his middle name since it wasn't as jarring when you had to hear it on a daily basis. It was the closest they could get to naming him after someone without the fear that it would pluck a raw nerve each time they had to call his name.

Marcus shrugged and gave her a half-smirk. "He's the one that asked to hear a scary story."

"Yeah, but next time maybe you should leave the Locust out of it," she said, shaking her head but still returning the smile.

"You know any scarier stories?"

"Not the point," she said before finally conceding defeat. "Just go a little easy on him next time."

"Yes ma'am," he replied with the mock salute he reserved for his small victories.

"Have you talked to Cole yet?" she asked, steering back towards the original subject.

Marcus shook his head, finishing the last of the eggs. "Not since last week, but he's coming. Said he wouldn't miss it." He had that tone again. The uncomfortable dread resonated in his voice.

"Hey, cheer up," she said gently, rubbing his shoulder. "You've earned it."

"Yeah," he muttered, not sounding at all convinced. Shoving the last piece of bacon in his mouth he rose and went for the sink. "You know they sent me a new friggin' dress uniform?"

She laughed softly. "Because your last one wouldn't fit you, even if you still had it."

He made a sound halfway between a scoff and a groan, mumbling something about a waste of resources before turning back to face her.

"I'm surprised they didn't send you one."

"I've still got my CIC issue dress. It was good enough for my promotion, but that wasn't as big of a deal as this."

He opened his mouth to argue but a small voice interrupted them.

"Mom?"

"In the kitchen," Anya called, shooting Marcus a stern look. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "He's really excited for you. Don't ruin it for him."

The boy came wandering out of the hallway, still wearing his pajamas and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His short cropped dark hair was pressed to the back of his head, still bearing the indent of the pillow.. As soon as he spotted Marcus his face lit up.

"I thought you had to work!" he nearly shouted, rushing forward to wrap his arms around him as best he could.

"Got the day off," Marcus replied patting the boy on the head. He did an excellent job masking the irritation over the fuss being made, but Anya caught it and gave him the warning glance again.

"Cool," he replied, letting go as if he'd suddenly remembered his composure.

"Did you lay your suit out yet mister?" Anya asked. Catching the expression on his face, she frowned slightly.

"Jon," she said sternly.

"But Mom," he started, but Marcus nudged his back lightly.

"Go ahead, kid."

Jon looked up at him with utter hopelessness. "You're not leaving yet, right?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nah. I'm free all day."

"Until tonight, you mean. Oh! Will Sam be there? Oh! What about Bernie?!" His voice was accelerating as his anticipation started to overwhelm him.

"Jonathon," Anya cut in.

"You're getting the full name, kid. You better listen," Marcus said, nudging him along again. "Go get your stuff ready. I'm not going anywhere."

Jon shot him one last forlorn glance before trudging off back towards his room.

Anya smiled and shook her head. "I swear he gets along better with Sam and Bernie than most of the kids at school."

Marcus shrugged. "Maybe if the other kids knew how to blow shit up or fire a longshot he'd be more interested in them."

She rolled her eyes. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Growing up around a bunch of Gears probably didn't help."

"I think he's doing just fine," Marcus said, giving her the half-smirk.

"I never hung out with other kids, and I turned out okay."

Anya's scoff gave way to soft laughter as she crossed the small room and buried herself in his chest. As he wrapped his arms behind her back she sighed.

"If he starts wearing a bandana to bed, we're gonna have to have a talk with him."

* * *

"You see my pants?" Baird called from the bathroom.

Sam stretched her arms out in front of her before crossing them under her chin.

"For about four seconds. Last night." Most of the bed linens had ended up on the floor through the course of the night, but a thin sheet remained tangled in her legs and covering her lower back.

Baird returned with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet from the shower.

"I meant recently. Unless you want me going to this thing dressed like this."

"Go for it," she said, chuckling softly as she rolled over to sit up, pulling the sheet along with her. "You done using up the hot water?"

Digging through the heap of blankets on the floor he finally located his pants. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on, smirking over his shoulder at her.

"No one said you had to stay out here."

Leaning down to the floor, Sam grabbed the goggles that had fallen beside the bed. Coming up behind him, she stretched them down over his head, letting them snap into place a little harder than necessary.

He flinched, but refused to give her the satisfaction of any further response.

"Cole called while you were in there. He's coming in this afternoon," she said, rising from the bed and heading towards the still steamy bathroom, dragging the sheet along with her.

"Good," Baird said. He would never admit just how much he'd missed Cole the last few months. Since the solar plants began opening at a more rapid rate, Baird had been sent along to about half of them to assist. Cole was still living in Anvil Gate, where he'd been for the last year. He'd set up a Thrashball program for the kids and had become a reserve Gear in favor of taking a teaching job. Of course, he had used the motion sickness excuse to explain why he was staying put for a while, but Baird had known it was only half the reason. Cole missed Bernie. And Hoffman. And the when they'd visited Anvil Gate about three years ago, Cole had gotten mighty close to one of the women that had lived in Pelruan.

Baird was still working out a way to suggest to Sam that they move back to Anvil Gate when the construction slowed down without letting on that he missed Cole, and without everyone assuming that he was doing something selfless just for Sam. He still had an image to maintain, after all.

"He's bringing his girlfriend, I think," Sam called from the bathroom.

She returned, pulling her typical off-duty tank top down over her head. Catching the predatory look in Baird's eye she rolled her eyes. "Pour some ice water on it, Blondie. I've gotta go see Hoffman."

Baird groaned as he fell backwards onto the bed. "Fine, but don't get pissed at me when I'm too distracted to finish fixing your bike."

She leaned over him and planted a light kiss on his cheek and grinned wickedly before slapping him playfully on the top of the head.

"Don't fuck with the bike, Blondie." Walking her fingers down his chest slowly, she held his gaze fiercely. "You break it, I break you."

She pushed herself up and headed for the door, leaving him staring after her.

* * *

"Ma'am?" The apartment intercom was ringing again.

Anya made her way over, pushing the receiver before reaching over her shoulder for the dress zipper that ran the length of her spine.

"Yes?"

"There's a car here for you," Sarah said through the speaker.

"I never called for one," Anya replied, searching her brain for the possibilities. She sighed as an involuntary smile took over her lips.

"Hoffman?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "Did you tell him we didn't need one?"

"Sorry, ma'am," the woman replied. "I'm not the type to defy the General's orders."

"Understandable. Thanks. We'll be down in just a minute." Anya flipped the speaker back off as she felt Marcus come up behind her, sliding her hand away and taking over the job of pulling the zipper the rest of the way up.

She shivered and let her eyes fall closed for a moment, savoring the moment as much as any they shared before turning to face him. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him in his dress uniform, looking completely stiff and uncomfortable, but impressive nonetheless.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I know."

"You look good," she offered, receiving a snort in response. "Really."

Before he could respond again a rapid knock came on the door.

"I'm ready!" Jon called from the other side of the door.

Anya inhaled deeply. "Are _you?"_ she asked.

"Don't ask," he groaned, but he straightened his back even further. "Come on."

* * *

By the time the sun had started to set, the small school auditorium was already full. Marcus was standing backstage still trying to reign in the uncomfortable tension that was making his suit feel even tighter.

He peered out from behind the curtain and immediately spotted Anya, sitting between Bernie, and Jon who looked so proud to be wearing his formal clothes and minding his posture. He was chatting happily with Sam who had taken the seat on his other side. The three seats next to her were empty, presumably reserved for Baird, Cole, and his guest.

Just as he turned to retreat into the darkness again, a familiar voice barked out from somewhere behind him.

"Already wishing it was over, Fenix?"

Hoffman appeared from the shadows, looking much more comfortable in his dress uniform. It still bore some medals, but the Embry Star remained absent. He was wearing his cap, though. Some things never changed.

"Something like that," Marcus muttered, reaching out to catch Hoffman in a handshake.

"And I'm sure if it weren't for Anya you'd have skipped the entire thing," Hoffman replied, completely confident in his guess.

"There's friggin' _reporters_ here." Marcus made it sound like he was disgusted, but not in the way Hoffman would have. Hoffman had little respect for the majority of the press members he met. Overall they seemed to behave like vultures, and through the years of the Pendulum Wars they'd sealed his view of them.

But Marcus seemed more agitated with the prospect of being part of a public spectacle than with the reporters themselves.

"Yeah," Hoffman replied. "And they damn well should be here. If I had to put up with it, so do you."

"Thanks," Marcus muttered, giving in to sarcasm as a last resort. "That's helpful."

"I do my best," Hoffman said, clapping his hand on Marcus' shoulder. "Just keep your chin up for the jackals and don't let the bulbs blind you. Oh, and Trescu called this morning. He said to send you his regards, but his wife is due to burst any day and he didn't want to leave her."

Marcus laughed quietly. "What's he up to now?"

"This makes three. But I guess he didn't want to waste any time anymore," Hoffman replied with a chuckle. He peered past Marcus for a moment and smiled.

"And here comes our Chairman."

It was refreshing to see Hoffman say the word 'chairman' without looking as though he were about to vomit.

Lewis Gavriel made his way down the narrow corridor that rang next to the auditorium accompanied by a young Gear in his light armor, lancer strapped to his back. Undoubtedly, he'd been assigned as a sort of bodyguard, and also undoubtedly Lewis had probably protested before relenting. Less than a year after the end of the Locust War he'd been elected Chairman, running completely unopposed. One of his first acts as Chairman had been to promote Hoffman to General as soon as he worked out the proper procedure for it.

"Chairman," Marcus said, nodding his head in the way of a greeting.

He grimaced for a moment. "Lewis. Please. No one is around to give you grief about it, so it's still Lewis behind the scenes." He shook Marcus' hand, beaming proudly.

"Just came to get a moment to congratulate you personally before the circus begins."

"Thanks," Marcus said, forcing a smile but succeeding in making it appear genuine.

"Of course. You've earned it, Sergeant Major." Lewis gave him the wide smile again. "The extra syllables in the title might be an inconvenience, but you can take that up with General Hoffman, here. He's the only reason I know any of the titles anyhow."

Before Marcus could respond a young woman poked her head into the small corridor, looking somewhere between irritated and frantic.

"Gentlemen, they're ready for you." She glared impatiently, waiting for them to start moving.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Gavriel gestured for them to go on ahead of him. "Time to put on our press faces until this is done. Then, from what I understand, we've got quite the evening ahead of us."

"Yeah, and I didn't let Bernie cook a damn thing," Hoffman said as they made their way towards the stage.

The promotion ceremony was small in comparison to the way they used to be. In the years before the Locust these events would be ridiculously crowded. Towards the later years of the Pendulum Wars attendance had begun to dwindle as the act of turning out medals had become nearly robotic, but the public still enjoyed a good reason to get together for the sake of celebration.

Now the auditorium that held five hundred people was full, but the fact that there was standing room only spoke to the attention this event had gathered. The town of Porra was small; only around twenty five hundred people called it home. Doing the math in his head, Marcus had realized that at least a fifth of the population had come out, and that was only accounting for the people that had made it through the doors.

There was a small line of younger men ahead of Marcus up for promotion, though. A small handful of new corporals, including Clayton Carmine, two new lieutenants and a new sergeant. But by the time it came to the near end of the evening, it became clear what everyone had come to see.

As Gavriel gave a brief speech detailing the finer points of his service, Marcus tried not to visibly squirm in his seat under the pressure of the attention being completely focused on him.

Finally it was Hoffman's turn to stand up. He put on a great show, despite his aversion to public speaking in such a formal setting. But he spoke from the heart, and honestly; the only way he knew how. And suddenly it was up to Marcus to stand before him have his new rank pinned on him for everyone to see.

"Sergeant Major Fenix," Hoffman started, thankful that his old age wasn't pulling too hard at the grasp he had on his steady composure.

"It's been an honor to serve with you, and it's an honor to promote you to Sergeant Major of the Coaliton of Order Governments."

Their hands went up in mutual salute just as the deafening applause thundered in the room.

The rest of the evening was pleasurably low-key. Once they'd made it past the media, most of the participants from the evening were ushered towards a banquet room reserved for them; no press allowed.

The celebration was lavish, but well-earned on all fronts.

As the night wound down and the room started to empty out, the last full table sat with extra chairs shoved in anywhere they would fit. Anya sat beside Marcus, with Jon sound asleep with his head in her lap. Every living member of Delta was there, including Dizzy and his girls. Even Alex Brand and Drew Rossi had made it.

Carmine's parents had left and taken his young son, named Anthony Benjamin for his own lost brothers, home leaving him to spend the evening with his wife, a pretty young Gorasni woman, and the other members of his squad.

At one point Baird called Anya 'Stroud' and was quickly corrected. He told her he couldn't see her as a 'Fenix' because she didn't look pissed off all the time, earning a round a laughter from the group, even from Marcus.

Though they stayed together sometime in to the middle of the night, eventually the group dispersed little bits at a time. The goodbyes came easier now; there was little doubt that they'd see each other again. The phone lines had been restored for the most part, and travel was a much easier possibility. And though there was still trouble with random groups of Stranded that still refused to rejoin the civilized world, there was a large comfort in knowing that the world as they knew it was finally reaching a point somewhere close to what it had been in its glory days.

Somewhere close to morning Marcus and Anya found their way to their apartment again. Marcus had the still sleeping Jon, who'd refused multiple offers to come home, in his arms.

Anya followed them to the doorway of the young boy's room, decorated with hand-drawn pictures and only mildly cluttered with toys. She stood in the doorway as Marcus placed him lightly in his bed, careful not to wake him.

But his efforts failed, and only a moment passed before Jon clutched his arm tightly, mumbling sleepily.

"Don't go, Dad. I need a story."

Anya leaned against the door frame, ready to relieve Marcus so he could finally get out of the stiff, uncomfortable suit.

But instead he slid into the space next to the small boy, taking up nearly half the bed as he sat with his back against the headboard, patting him on the head lightly.

"Ok, kid. You want another scary one?"

Jon shook his head quickly, nuzzling his head into Marcus' leg.

"No. Tell me a story about Uncle Dom."

* * *

**Author's Note: Yup. You read correctly. This is it. The Epilogue. My conclusion. The last three lines are literally the single reason I started down this road to begin with. I've had that image in my head, and it drove me to begin this process. So, that's my story. I have enjoyed every moment of this project. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you to each and every one of you who have followed me on this crazy ride. If I see a need for it, I may go back and edit a few chapters for quality control purposes, so if you see updates on the story that's why. But for the most part, I can close this story with a bittersweet sadness than makes my heart hurt since this has been such a major dedication of my life for the last few months. As always, I thank you for your support, and I hope to be adding other short stories soon as the mood strikes me. Much love to everyone, and for one last time; thank you.**


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